


Lockdown

by MissGryffindor



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Pandemics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:21:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 33,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24278041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGryffindor/pseuds/MissGryffindor
Summary: With a 'flu pandemic spreading through Planetos, PM Stannis Baratheon orders a lockdown throughout Westeros.  College student Sansa Stark finds herself confined at home during the Spring holidays with her parents and siblings, along with her sister's boyfriend, Gendry, her brother's girlfriend, Jeyne, and his best friend, Jon Snow.It would all be so simple........if only Sansa hadn't caught feelings for Jon after moving to White Harbour to study.And Jon Snow must endure the lockdown staying not only with his best friend's family, but with the girl he isn't supposed to think of as anything more than a friend.  And would, actually, really, quite like to be more than his friend as soon as humanly possible.
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Catelyn Stark/Ned Stark, Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Robb Stark/Jeyne Westerling
Comments: 179
Kudos: 392





	1. One - Sansa

“What are they saying it went up to since yesterday?” Rickon asked through a mouthful of cereal as he walked into the family room. Sansa screwed up her nose, knowing that if her mother were home then Rickon would never have dared to eat his breakfast anywhere but the kitchen table. 

“Another few thousand cases in King’s Landing and Oldtown. A couple of hundred in White Harbour. Nowhere in the North is up to a thousand yet”, Robb told him. “In Essos……I think they said Meereen, Astapor and Yunkai seem to be calming down a bit, but there’s still several million cases between them. Volantis is looking pretty bad too.”

Sansa sought reassurance from her elder brother’s eyes, but could only see her own fear reflected in them. They had been home from WHU for the Easter fortnight for three days now and each and every one of them had been spent almost glued to WNN, the 24-hour news channel that covered the entirety of Westeros. Even when they were studying it was on in the background. 

“Is it really healthy for us to be watching this all the time?” Jon asked, voicing a concern Sansa had held for at least a day. She could feel him fidgeting next to her and it brought shivers to her spine. Sansa shook herself mentally. This was not the time to be thinking about Jon. There was a Planetos wide pandemic and the woodsy pine scent coming off Jon Snow was not going to rectify that – nor was the adorable (in Sansa’s opinion) tic he currently had, constantly tucking his thick dark curls behind his ear. 

Sansa longed to do that for him. 

“I could do with a little less of this”, Jeyne agreed. She was sat half on the arm of the sofa, half on Robb’s lap. “Maybe we could all go out for a walk or something later on. Take our minds off it.”

“That sounds like a good idea”, Robb grinned back at her. Sansa looked over at them gazing at each other, fingers threaded, and dopey grins on their faces. She envied them greatly. Thank the gods she had decided to find an apartment with Wynafryd rather than taking up Robb’s awkward – but heartfelt – suggestion she take the spare room in the apartment he shared with Jeyne. 

Sansa wished that were her and Jon. 

Although she’d known Jon for years, it wasn’t until she moved to White Harbour to study Northern History that she’d started to think of him as more than her brother’s best friend. They were taking the same course (though Jon was now in his final year, while Sansa would shortly complete her second) and what was probably a casual offer on Jon’s part to answer any questions about the course or her professors, or give a second opinion on an assignment, had turned into regular encounters where they would spend hours discussing topics like the Westerosi Act of Union and the Whitehill/Forrester conflicts over coffee and cake. 

The lines had started to get blurry and somewhere along the way, Sansa had found herself more than a little attracted to Jon. She clicked with him in a way she could never have anticipated and they’d started spending even more time together over the last six months, after he’d broken up with his girlfriend, Val, around Hallowe’en. 

“I’m trying to eat my breakfast”, Rickon reminded Robb, bringing Sansa out of her thoughts. 

“This isn’t a kitchen”, Robb retorted. But he and Jeyne got up and left the room. 

“Are you okay?” Jon asked quietly. They’d been talking about this since the first cases started being reported around a month earlier. Then, it had just been a small amount of people affected. And Qarth and Asshai were both so far away. Sansa had never anticipated the chaos she’d seen on the news being repeated in Winterfell. 

“Jeyne’s right. We should go for a walk later”, Sansa replied quietly, not wanting to admit how terrified she truly was – both for herself and for her family. “And generally we should do more than just sit watching the news or allowing ourselves to be distracted. How’s the studying going?”

“Could be better. Handing in my dissertation at the end of term was the biggest relief I’ve felt in months, but I also think it entitled me to a few days of slacking off.” A large part of his final grade, Jon had written extensively on the regeneration of New Gift following the Second War for the Dawn. Sansa had seen the final draft, which had been filled with maps and diagrams and drawings of the houses that had been built under the direction of the queen she’d been named for. 

“Definitely.”

Sansa suddenly felt Jon’s warm embrace as he wrapped his arms around her. Jon tucked her hair behind her ear and whispered quietly, so only she could hear. “We’re all in this together. We’ll look out for each other.”

“I know”, Sansa muttered. But she looked up at the screen and saw the images of people panic buying toilet paper and fighting over boxes of cereal in Gulltown and wondered when her mother would return from the grocery store. 

-

“Robb! Rickon! Come down here and give me a hand with the shopping.” Sansa saw the weariness in her mother’s eyes and immediately went to make her a cup of tea. Collecting milk from the fridge, she saw Jon wordlessly get up and head for the front door. Sansa smiled.

“How bad was it?” she asked her mother when they were alone. 

“There’s a rush on just about everything and the woman behind me kept huffing and puffing when she saw what I was picking up. No doubt she thought I was hoarding, but I figured if I tried to justify it by pointing out I’ve a house of ten people to feed – if we include Gendry, and he’s almost always here – I would sound like someone trying to excuse their hoarding.”

Rickon stuck his head around the corner. “Did you get the special edition cookies I like? The ones with – “

“There was no special edition anything in the store. I got what I could and we’ll make what we can of it until I get out again. There’s talk of them rationing certain goods and limiting when people can visit the store. It may be easier, for the next while, to order the groceries and have them delivered”, her mother replied. 

Sansa focused on making the tea and tried to ignore the anxiety bubbling up inside of her at that. 

“Why don’t we make us all some?” Sansa jumped at the sound of Jeyne’s voice and found she’d been staring out the window at the spring flowers her mother had planted. “Sorry.”

Sansa shook her head. “I’ll be fine. You’re right. We should make some for everyone.”

She clicked off the kettle and filled it up to the top, before setting it on to boil again, while Jeyne pulled more mugs out of the cupboard and located the sugar. She took her tea very sweet – a Westerlands habit, apparently. Sansa had become used to it over the last year or so. 

“Some biscuits, I think”, Sansa murmured. There was a variety pack a visiting neighbour had dropped in a couple of weeks ago and Sansa pulled out a decent selection, setting them down on a plate. She wondered which ones Robb and Rickon would get into a fight over, as they inevitably did when food was involved. 

“Where does this go?” Jon appeared at her shoulder with a stack of cleaning products in hand. 

“The cupboard under the sink.”

He began to wordlessly help put away the shopping while Rickon rifled through the bags to see what was in them and stole biscuits from the plate she’d set out. Sansa watched Jon methodically stack tins of soup and felt guilty about the anticipation bubbling up inside her at the thought of the lockdown order likely to come from the news broadcast Prime Minister Stannis Baratheon was making that evening, the news notification for it having come through just before her mother’s return. 

Normally, Jon spent his vacation time from WHU with his mother, but Lyanna was on a year-long dig up at Hardhome and had let out their cottage for twelve months. Jon had gone to stay with her at Christmas but with travel becoming difficult Robb had insisted (to Sansa’s silent delight) that he come back to Winterfell with them. What was another person in a house of eight?

Sansa was terrified at the thought of the pandemic spreading to Winterfell but the prospect of spending an endless amount of time in lockdown in the same house as Jon affected her belly in other ways. That swooping sensation she developed around him would intensify every time Sansa contemplated the endless days they’d have to fill. 

Thank the old gods and the new that Robb had brought Jeyne. That would mean he and Jon wouldn’t be in each other’s pockets as they had been when they were younger. 

“There we go.” The kettle had boiled and Sansa filled the cups up, leaving the milk and sugar to Jeyne. They were all having tea, save Jon. He drank coffee. Black. It was a bit of a cliché, Sansa had often thought when they were sitting in a coffeehouse frequented by students – her with tea and a lemon cake and him with black coffee and a chocolate brownie – but Sansa had yet to find something about Jon she wanted to change. 

If she changed something about him, he wouldn’t be Jon. He wouldn’t be her wonderful, amazing friend that she’d grown more-than-friendly feelings for. 

An amazing friend she’d have to hide those feelings from while they were in lockdown together. Crap. Sansa hadn’t considered that too much. Still, better together than apart. Once the lockdown they were heading for took effect, there was no knowing how long it might last for. 

Sansa took two cups of tea over to the kitchen table and set one in front of her mother. “Thank you, dear. Best bring over that plate of biscuits before your brother eats them all.”

“These are good biscuits”, Rickon retorted through a mouthful of them. 

“ _I’ll_ take those”, said Jeyne. 

“Come on. Give me a hand getting these away”, Jon told Rickon, thwacking him on the shoulder with a pack of disinfectant wipes. 

Disinfectant wipes. That was something she’d never thought to stockpile, and she doubted her mother had either. 

-

Bran insisted he had studying to do and Rickon was playing video games online with his friends, so it was only the four of them who went for a walk. Robb, Jeyne, Jon and Sansa. As always seemed to happen when the four of them spent time together in White Harbour, they started off in a group. Soon, it turned to two sets of two. 

Robb and Jeyne walked a few paces ahead, hand in hand, talking quietly together, while Sansa found herself next to Jon. 

Everything seemed to be happening at a hundred miles an hour and in slow motion all at the same time. They passed houses where people looked to have already hunkered down for the duration, and people out for walks and runs as if nothing was going on. An ice cream truck passed, with music blaring.

“This is eerie. Do you think this was what it would’ve been like just before the old Winterfell Castle was under siege in the Second War for the Dawn?” she asked him. 

“Except they’d be fighting over dragonglass weapons instead of multipacks of toilet paper and antiseptic wipes.” 

“True. Did you manage to get through to Lyanna?” Sansa knew internet signal up at Hardhome was patchy. It was remote and the dig team was staying in glorified log cabins. 

“Yeah. Fourth time lucky. The satellite signal was a bit dodgy and she’d let some of the others contact their families first. There’s a few of them on short-term visits with small kids. She says they should be able to get enough supplies in. At least she won’t be alone up there.”

“I called Wynafryd. She’s determined to stay in our apartment by herself rather than go back to stay with the rest of the family. Wylla was trying to convince her to, but ‘Fryd says she’s going to take the opportunity to have some time to herself.” They had, however, promised to have regular telephone and video calls. It seemed most of them were resigned to their fate. 

Having ‘Fryd to talk to would be a blessing – her friend was the only person who knew that Sansa’s feelings for Jon ran deeper than they were supposed to. Sansa had a feeling she’d need to vent to someone about the constant proximity to Jon. In White Harbour, her feelings were manageable for the most part. 

She was starting to think that in Winterfell that might not always be the case. 

“When your mother agreed to host me for break, I don’t think she ever thought I’d turn into an indefinite house guest.”

“Yeah, but you’re part of the wallpaper by now. You’re very much a wanted indefinite house guest.”

Jon chuckled at that. “You don’t wish you were going into this in White Harbour?”

“Nope. Besides, the library will close down. Classes won’t run in person after break ends, even if the faculty haven’t made it official yet. I might as well be here with my insane family.” They’d be a household of nine. “The only thing is – if it lasts long enough – you and Robb and Jeyne will miss out on your graduation ceremony.”

“Thousands of people staring at me? Yeah, I think I can live without that.” Sansa nudged her shoulder against Jon’s. “Don’t tell my mother I said that.”

“Might, might not”, Sansa responded coyly. She looked ahead to Robb and Jeyne, who seemed to have merged into a single unit. She knew Jeyne had argued on the phone with her mother the night before – Mrs. Westerling had wanted her to take the next flight to Casterly International and Jeyne had refused. Jeyne’s relationship with her mother wasn’t the best, Sansa had come to understand over the last year or two, and she didn’t imagine being locked down with her would help matters.

“I’m sure in the future that people will say we lived in interesting times, and yet we’ll end up finding it quite boring.”

“Boring?”

“Well, we’ll be confined inside for R’hllor knows how long, binge watching Netflix, obsessively watching news reports and fighting Rickon for the good biscuits.”

“When you put it like that……”

“At least we’ll be together. All of us, I mean. In a group. We won’t be going through it alone.”

“Of course.” _Together_. _In a group_. Sansa let her mind slip momentarily to an alternative universe in which she and Jon were _JonandSansa_ and they were confined together, alone, just the two of them, for weeks on end. Weeks they could spend in bed. And Jon would –

“Sansa?”

“What?”

“I was asking if you wanted to try and talk Robb and Jeyne into watching that movie this evening after the PM’s broadcast? The one set during the Blackfyre Rebellions?”

“Oh.” Of course, something serious. “Um, maybe? Even though we all pretty much know what he’s going to say, I don’t know what I’ll feel like watching after he’s actually said it. One of Rickon’s silly comedies might be what we’re in the mood for.”

“True”, Jon agreed. 

They walked along quietly for a time, in companionable silence, forcing Sansa to realize that while they walked a lot more than they had when they were younger, they also did a lot more of _this_. Spending time in each other’s company without demanding any sort of conversation. And yet it was never uncomfortable. 

The contradictions continued around them. There was the hustle and bustle of people rushing from one place to another and yet huge swathes of the town in which nothing seemed to be happening, as if it were populated by phantoms. 

Sansa thought back to her lessons. Of the winter fever and grey plague outbreaks through Westeros eons ago. Of greyscale. Of illnesses come and gone with the seasons. Sometime in the future, this would be a footnote in history. And she was living it.

-

“Go and put your things upstairs”, Sansa heard her mother say. She was in the family room, trying out a new yoga channel she’d found on YouTube with Jeyne while Jon and Robb read through textbooks and passed comment on the names of the positions (or, at least, Robb did).

Sansa stood up and went out into the hallway to find her father, returned from work at his legal firm, with Arya and Gendry. Her sister had stayed over at her boyfriend’s last night (something Sansa knew she’d never have been permitted to do in her final year of high school). She watched Gendry go upstairs with Arya, a couple of sports bags in hand. 

“So now we are ten”, her mother murmured. She turned and went back through to the kitchen. 

“Evening, sweetheart”, said her father. He kissed Sansa’s cheek. 

“Gendry’s staying here too?”

Her father nodded. “I went to collect Arya, but she started talking about staying longer.”

“And you knew mum would rather Gendry stay here for lockdown than the other way around.” Gendry was Sansa’s age and had a studio apartment along from the auto repair place he worked at. His father was an old friend of her own, though they did not speak. Sansa knew her father had been instrumental in moving Gendry and his mother to Winterfell when she first became sick. She’d died two years earlier.

“I’m going to change for dinner. We best be finished in time for Stannis making his broadcast.” Stannis, yes. Sansa always found it strange to reconcile the austere, non-smiling PM with the fact that he was Gendry’s uncle. It just felt so unlikely. 

She went back into the family room to find the yoga channel turned off and Jeyne sitting in Robb’s lap. Gods, but now she’d have two very happy couples – three if her parents were included – surrounding her. Bran and Rickon were practically children, though she knew there was something there between Bran and Meera, daughter of their father’s friend, Howland. But Meera was in Greywater Watch. 

Seven hells, but how could she be around them without thinking about how much _she_ wanted to take Jon up to her room to get settled, or sit in his lap in the family room while they made eyes at each other?

And to make it all worse, Sansa had not long realized her trusty vibrator hadn’t come home with her for the holidays. It was in the top drawer of her bedside table in the apartment she and ‘Fryd shared in White Harbour. For all the good it would do Sansa _there_.

The mall was closed – had been for a couple of days – and Sansa was mortified at the thought of ordering one online and having it delivered to the family home. She’d be questioned on what was in the parcel with her name on it. It’d be questioned if she took it up to her bedroom to open, as if she had something to hide. 

_Fuck this pandemic_. 

“Gendry’s staying?” Jon asked, cutting across Sansa’s panicked thoughts. 

“Yep. That’s us up to ten.”

Sansa sat down and picked up a book she’d left in the room earlier, a biography of Baela Targaryen, and started to leaf through it. It was a book she’d read on countless occasions and had become worn and tatty. It was a book she could pretend to read without worrying that she was missing out. Sansa half-read it until dinner was ready. 

“I made us a stew”, her mother said, plating up. “I’ll need to do an inventory at some point tomorrow and try to figure out what we’ve got and how long it’ll last. Sansa, could you start taking these to the table, please?”

Sansa followed her usual role, and laid the plates out in front of everyone, taking her own for last. She slid into a seat next to Jon and helped herself to some crusty bread. That was something she could do at least. Sansa could bake bread. She’d always found it a soothing task. 

-

Once dinner had been eaten and the dishes washed, they all crowded into the family room to watch the PM give his scheduled news broadcast. Her parents sat together on the small sofa, Sansa noticing that her father’s hand went to clasp her mother’s in her lap, while Jeyne sat on Robb’s lap in what was, ostensibly, a single seat. Arya and Gendry were on beanbags, Bran parked his chair next to Robb’s, and Sansa found herself on the larger sofa in between Jon and Rickon. 

Sansa tried to calm her heart when Jon’s hand reached out and began rubbing soothing circles on the small of her back. He seemed to sense her anxiety rising and she adored him for it. 

“Can’t we just get this over with?” Arya sighed, as the news anchor listed off the same numbers they’d been talking about since Rickon had eaten his breakfast in here this morning. “We all know what Stannis is going to say.”

“His broadcast isn’t scheduled to start for another few minutes”, her father reminded them. “They’re just filling in time.”

Sansa glanced to her right and saw Jon tuck his curls behind his ear again. He’d done that several times in the few minutes they’d been sat next to each other, when Sansa had returned from a visit to her room in which she screamed silently into her pillow. 

His eyes found hers and Sansa saw the warmth there. Gods, but these…. _feelings_ …..and _stirrings_ …..they wouldn’t be half so bad if he didn’t look at her with those broody come-to-bed eyes and a slight quirk of the lips that seemed to be just for her. 

Sansa turned and focused on the TV and the news anchor counting in Stannis Baratheon and not on the pinky Jon had linked with her own on the sofa between them.

When Stannis Baratheon appeared on the screen it was with a sombre expression – more so than the one he usually wore – and a plain background. His tie was straight as always and he sat so rigidly still that it was feasible he was being held in place. 

“Good evening”, he began soberly. “You have all been following – as I have – the spread of this pandemic throughout Planetos. What was once a local infection confined to Asshai and Qarth has now reached our shore. Cases in White Harbour and Gulltown and Lannisport and Oldtown rise daily. We cannot ignore this disease any longer.”

“Just hurry up and say it”, she heard Rickon murmur. 

“I have today spoken with my council and we have come to the following agreements. From this moment until further notice, all non-essential businesses shall cease trading. All citizens shall be confined within their homes except for trips to grocery stores and pharmacies. One hour of external exercise shall be permitted per day, to be taken within two kilometres of your home. Anyone in breach of these regulations will be prosecuted. All places of education are to proceed with the emergency plans to teach remotely. Government websites will be updated within the next few moments advising which businesses may remain open. May the gods old and new, and blessed R’hllor have mercy upon us all.”

Sansa let out a deep sigh. She had known it was coming, but there is a difference between knowing and accepting. Sansa turned to face her father. There was a look on his face that, had it appeared on any other, she would’ve taken it for _fear_. But not him. Not her father. Her father was a constant and a comfort in her life.

And Sansa had to continue to believe it.

“Well, that is hardly a surprise”, he said, muting the TV. “Gendry has already been advised he will be on leave for the duration and I’ve all but closed the firm up for the time being. The government website will likely crash tonight with all the traffic. We’ll check in the morning for school and college information. Winterfell High and WHU will likely have updates on their own websites. We’ll make it through this. The North will endure. We always have done.”

And so it begins, Sansa thought. 


	2. Two - Jon

“Ma? Ma? Can you hear me?” The satellite signal was as shocking as always, but Jon preferred it to e-mail. At least he could hear her voice this way – albeit intermittently through crackling that made it unclear how much either of them was able to understand what the other was saying. 

“Yeah, I can hear you – sec – just – there, I’ve moved to the window seat. Is that any better?”

“A bit. You saw what PM Baratheon said?”

“We do have TV up here, Jon. There’s actual structures and running water and electricity. You’ve been here.” Jon snorted. He could just imagine her rolling her eyes at him, curled up on the bench at the bay window. “Yeah, we saw it. It is what it is. The dig site has been shut down but we can still write up our recent findings and theorise what it might mean. Is it selfish of me to wish that you’d come up here anyway?”

They had discussed it, but with the possibility of lockdown hanging over them, logic had determined that he go to Winterfell and stay with the Starks. Travelling would be difficult for a while and Winterfell was closer to White Harbour.

“Nope.” Part of him wished he’d gone. The craven part of him that spent far too much time overthinking every single interaction he had with Sansa and _not_ telling her that he’d like to take her out to dinner sometime and then have her for dessert. Maybe he wouldn’t phrase it quite that way if he ever got round to telling her.

The rest of him knew that it would’ve been hell to spend this time away from Sansa. 

“I’ll need to go on the faculty website in the morning and see what their policy is going forward. Obviously classes will go online, but they didn’t say before break started what was going to happen with exams. I don’t know if they’d actually decided yet.”

“You don’t know – “

“They’ve been under lockdown conditions in Asshai for two months now, ma. I think we have to assume that my final semester is going to be fully remote.” He would miss the library, though many of the texts were now available through the online library, sitting in silence and pouring through texts and maps and old journals. Jon loved the Starks but of the younger ones none of them save Sansa – and perhaps Bran – knew anything of silence.

“This bloody pandemic better not take your graduation away”, his mother groused. He chuckled at that. Jon knew she’d made plans to come south for it.

“You know I’ve applied for my Masters. If we miss out on this one then there’ll be another one in the future.” Truth be told, Jon wasn’t entirely bothered at the thought of not having to stand up in front of thousands of people. He wasn’t about to tell his mother that, though.

“I suppose so. At least we only have ourselves to look after. Poor Cat. How many of you are there? Eight? Nine?”

“Ten. Apparently Arya expressed an interested in going into lockdown with her boyfriend so he’s come to stay. Jeyne wanted to stay here rather than go back to the Westerlands.” Not that Jon blamed her, having met Mrs. Westerling. Besides, Robb and Jeyne were as good as engaged. Jon knew Robb intended to ask after they’d graduated. “And there’s me.”

It would’ve been eleven if Ned’s brother Benjen had been on leave, but he hadn’t been due for some for another month or so. That would be up in the air now as the military could well end up being deployed for humanitarian missions.

“Busy, busy, busy. Listen, I best go. This satellite phone is between the three of us and Flint is making faces at me. I’ll call again when I can, sweetheart. Take care and don’t overwork yourself. Love you.”

“Love you too”, Jon replied. 

Jon ended the call and exhaled loudly. He glanced around the spare bedroom he had been given and was struck by the fact it was essentially his home for the foreseeable future. Jon smiled. Catelyn Stark had the homeliest spare room he had ever come across. It was almost as if he were staying in a hotel. The room, Jon knew, had been painted just after Christmas, the furniture looked new rather than second hand, and the duvet was thick and cosy. 

Jon wondered what it would be like to spend the night with Sansa underneath it. 

Gods, he had to stop this. He had to stop this halfway house between them. Either he accepted they wouldn’t be anything more than friends and worked out how to move past the skipped heartbeat she brought about at times, or he nutted up and told her that the afternoons they passed away in some café or other, debating historical arguments and obsessing over the minutest of details were the happiest part of his day. And that, to be honest, he would like to do _a lot_ more than simply hug her at the end of the day.

Sansa loved lemon cakes and Jon loved the sweet, soft moan she always let out when she took that first bite. He wanted to know if she’d make the same sound with his mouth on her, his hands on her hips and hers tugging at his hair. 

Shit.

He had to stop this line of thinking. He still had to go along the corridor to the bathroom and brush his teeth and Jon knew that wouldn’t be possible with the inevitable boner extended thinking of Sansa in that way would lead to. 

The worst thing about it was that Jon couldn’t honestly provide a decent argument for not telling Sansa – though he supposed the fact they’d be confined in a small place for an extended period of time might be one. But, the months since late November, when he’d realized just how much he loved spending as much of his spare time as he did with Sansa……Jon didn’t really have a decent argument for not telling her then. Maybe in the beginning, he had worried Sansa might think he was trying to get over Val with her. But…..since Christmas……no, Jon hadn’t had a real argument for a while now. 

His breathing calmed, Jon quickly changed and went down the hall to the mercifully free bathroom. 

-

Jon woke early the following morning. His phone said it was a little after seven but Jon knew himself well enough dismiss the idea of returning to sleep as futile. An old pair of sweatpants was on the chair at the end of his bed and Jon pulled them on, a deep dark grey to match the WHU t-shirt he was wearing.

Unsure who would be up at this hour, Jon walked carefully along the corridor, down the stairs, and in the direction of the kitchen. Although it was springtime, it wasn’t quite fully light at this time of day and Jon saw quickly that the kitchen light was on. Ned was sat at the large, long wooden table with what was probably a cup of tea and the remnants of toast.

“Morning”, Jon yawned. Had it been anyone else’s house, he’d have felt a bit awkward at making his own coffee, but Jon and Robb had been in and out of each other’s houses since they were four years old. “Everyone else still out?”

Ned chuckled. “Did you expect to see anyone?”

Jon shrugged as he put the kettle on to boil, but Catelyn was usually up around now. She would make Ned his breakfast and pull together his lunch while he had his morning shower. With Ned not working at the moment she would have no reason to get up this early, he supposed. A perpetual weekend – or, at least, until she had to start getting Arya, Bran and Rickon sorted for home schooling. They still had a week or so until then, though. 

“Nowhere to go and nothing to do, but I’ve become too much of a creature of habit. I couldn’t sleep much past seven if I wanted to. A morning person. Did you manage to get through to speak to Lyanna last night?”

“I did, thanks.” Ned and Catelyn Stark had always been kind to his mother. He guessed they’d become friends of sorts in their own right over the years. “They’ve had to pause the dig but it’ll take more than this to stop them. They’ve cataloguing to do and papers they can write.”

It was from his mother that Jon got his love of history – or so he believed, not knowing much of the man who had fathered him. She was an archaeologist, having started off with courses at the local college when he was just a toddler, and he recalled a childhood in which weekends were spent in antique shops and at flea markets looking at relics of years past. His mother worked for the Northern Historical Trust now, a job she loved. 

He took his coffee over to the table and sat opposite Ned. They sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of them being the most verbose of creatures, until Jon asked how Ned planned to fill his time in the forthcoming weeks. He had a small legal firm, himself and dozen or so staff, which would need to work from home – though courts would not hear cases. 

“I have legal briefs to prepare, reading I always intend to catch up on, staff to check in with – particularly those who live alone – and, I said to Cat last night, we should convert the garage in the short term. If anyone starts to show symptoms then they can isolate themselves in there.”

Jon hadn’t considered any of that. He supposed they were as likely as anyone to catch this sickness.

“Let me know if you need any help.”

“You and Robb have exams to study for. Sansa and Jeyne too”, Ned reminded him. 

“We’ll have to split things up when classes start back. There’s no way any of you will be able to concentrate with Rickon fidgeting constantly. We’ll figure it all out.”

Never mind Rickon fidgeting, Jon worried how he’d manage to concentrate studying next to Sansa all day every day. Thank the gods there was a desk in the bedroom. He could hole up there. They had studied together before, but that was when Jon could go back to the apartment he shared with Sam and have a shower while he contemplated the smell of her perfume and the way she smiled. Now, she’d be sleeping down the corridor from him.

Maybe he should’ve stayed in White Harbour. 

-

Jon was used to living in a small household. As a small child, he’d lived with his mother and grandmother, the later dying when he was seven. When he moved to White Harbour to study, he and Robb had shared an apartment for the first couple of years until he moved in with Jeyne – and Jon had taken up the free room in Sam’s apartment after his roommate Waymar dropped out and moved back to the Vale. As such, it was strange for him to be summoned to what he thought resembled some sort of family meeting.

He sat down opposite Gendry and saw he was equally as bemused by the request. It was the middle of the morning, and Jon had spent the majority of his day in the family room with a book on kinslaying in the medieval period and a notepad.

“Well, I’ve done an inventory of the food and made some plans as far as meals are concerned. I’ve also placed an online order with the grocery store to be delivered in three days”, Catelyn told them. “They didn’t have all of what I wanted in stock so we might need to make do for the next while. Just try not to waste anything.”

“I’ve been on the Winterfell High website and they’re setting up the means for online teaching over the next week or so”, Ned added. “How about WHU?”

“Jon and I have checked our faculty website and they’ve got everything set up for online tutorials plus they’re adding to the internet library”, said Sansa. That had been a welcome distraction from his studying. He could smell the shampoo she’d used that morning as Sansa had leaned in next to him and pointed to the update on her laptop screen. 

“The PolSci faculty is the same”, Robb added. He and Jeyne were taking the same course for the same purpose – a prelude to legal studies after graduation. 

“We’re lucky. ‘Fryd says the Psych department hasn’t really told them much.” Jon liked Sansa’s roommate, though he did worry at times that she was practicing techniques she’d learned in class on him.

“Rickon, after lunch you and I are going to start turning the garage into a studio apartment in case any of us need to isolate away from everyone else.”

“I can give you a hand with that”, Gendry offered amid Rickon’s grumbles. 

“Thank you.”

“Could I make a suggestion?” Jeyne asked. “Could we maybe limit the amount of WNN that is on the TV? I don’t think it’ll do any of us any good to watch the news constantly. Maybe at breakfast and the evening bulletin?”

“I think that’s an excellent idea”, Catelyn agreed. “Now, I’m going to get started on lunch. Sansa? Could you give me a hand? I thought I might make some soup and rolls. A good broth will warm us all up.”

Everyone seemed to disperse after that. Taking his phone out of his pocket to check for messages, Jon saw he’d received one from Sam requesting a call when he was free. He wondered how his roommate was getting on at home – Jon knew he didn’t see eye to eye with his father and Jon didn’t envy him spending the time in lockdown with the man. 

He went upstairs to his bedroom and dialled Sam’s number.

“Sorry, I didn’t see your message until now”, Jon apologized. 

“It doesn’t matter. How are things at Winterfell?”

“Good.” Jon coughed and looked out the window at the low spring sun. “Yeah, good. I don’t feel like an over-welcome guest yet.”

Sam laughed. “I’m sure the Starks don’t mind having you there. Robb wouldn’t have invited you if they did. We all knew this was likely to happen.”

“How’s Horn Hill? Before I forget, do you think we should get in touch with the landlord? Let him know the apartment will be empty indefinitely?” Sam had dealt with the lease more than Jon and so he couldn’t recall if it had been in the agreement. 

“I’m…….not in Horn Hill”, said Sam. 

“Oh?”

“So, I was meant to fly home, but the airport looked mobbed and that’s the best way to spread disease, I thought. And then Gilly had messaged me to say that her sisters – they’re all nurses, you know – they didn’t want her to come and stay in case they passed on any infection – “

“Let me guess……you invited Gilly to stay with you at our apartment?” Sam had been seeing Gilly since Valentine’s Day, when he’d finally plucked up the courage to ask the young librarian out on a date. 

“You don’t mind, do you?”

“Of course not.” One of them might as well be living the dream lockdown. “Just – just keep in touch, Sam, yeah?”

“I will do. How are things going there?” Sam was the only person Jon had told about his feelings for Sansa. 

“Alright. A bit strange in such a busy house. Arya’s boyfriend is here too so there’s ten of us, which is more than I’m used to. As for the other thing – gods, how can I say anything now, Sam? It’d make things bloody awkward if she says no and I’m stuck here for weeks on end like a bad smell.”

“I don’t think that’d be her response but past experience has shown I’m unlikely to convince you of that.”

“True. It’s just – it’s amazing and hell at the same time.”

-

Late on in the afternoon, Sansa asked Jon if he could look over a draft she’d written for an assignment on the Second War for the Dawn and the alliance between the Night’s Watch and the tribes of Free Folk. 

“What do you think?” Sansa asked once he’d read the last page. She looked so adorable, biting her lip. Jon wanted nothing more than to take her face in his hands and caress that worried lip with his own. He shook himself out of those thoughts and tried to move his hair away from his face. 

He should really tie it back. 

“I like what you’ve written about the Lord Commander and the working relationship he established with the King-Beyond-the-Wall”, Jon began. He grabbed a pen and flipped back a few pages. “See here, where you talk about the personal and the professional? How they had to trust each other as people? I like that. Maybe put in more examples – you could talk about the actions he took to protect the king’s son and heir, or the undercover mission to rescue the Lord Commander’s sister.”

“You don’t think that’s off topic?”

“I think it falls within the perimeter of the question and adds some flavour. A lot of people focus on statistics but these were real people who lived real lives and your essay should reflect that. You don’t want to send your professor or their TA to sleep, do you? No. Make it about people rather than facts and figures.” Jon turned another page. “And then – here I think you could write more about the other leading figures in the Night’s Watch and the Free Folk. The good and the bad. Men like Marsh _hated_ the Free Folk. Talk about the tensions as well as the successes. You’ve got most of it here already. It’s a great draft, Sans. All I would really do is add a few details.”

“Thanks.” She took the sheets of paper back and grabbed his hardback _A Thousand Eyes and One: Spies and Spying during the Handship of Brynden Rivers_ , leaning on it to scribble notes to herself and annotations in the margins. Sansa was incredibly smart and for all he’d nit-picked a couple of things, he knew there were many students in her class who wouldn’t turn in finished work as good as the first drafts Sansa produced.

“What are you working on?” she asked him. 

“Some stuff for my Blackfyre Rebellions class.” He indicated the book she was leaning on. “I need to take a break from reading, though.” Jon took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He was told regularly that he should just switch to contacts, but the idea of putting them in his eyes daily freaked him out a little. Jon was sure he’d forget they were there and do himself permanent damage. 

Sansa read out the title of the book. “Is it any good?”

“Yes. It is, actually. One of the few books Professor Pylos recommended we spend money on. It covers almost twenty-five years when he served his nephews Aerys I and Maekar I. A lot of depth and no figure in either regime was as knowledgeable about the Blackfyres and their plots.”

“Do you think there was ever a time the rebellions could’ve gone the other way?” Jon saw Sansa shift around in the seat next to him to make herself more comfortable, as she usually did when she was settling in for a long discussion. Jon wasn’t sure if she was even aware she did it. He was, but then Jon had become accustomed to cataloguing the foibles and habits of Sansa Stark. 

Her blue eyes shone and looked at him expectantly. Jon shook himself out of his thoughts. _Blackfyre rebellions, right?_ “If those arrows had hit anyone other than Daemon and his twin sons at the Redgrass Field – if one or two things had gone for the black dragon rather than the red, then maybe. I think with a lot of revolutions or rebellions or whatever you want to call them, you’re best chance is always the first. The more failures you rack up, the less likely it is that you’ll be able to attract new supporters – and keep the existing ones.”

“Would you recommend the class?”

“Sure, if you want to take up the elective option.” They had the opportunity each year to take a class offered by the faculty that covered Westerosi or Essosi history rather than simply that of the North. Jon had been intrigued by the battle elements and specializing in military history was something he was open to. 

“I might. I was looking at the options for next year and there’s one on Braavos, the Faceless Men and the Iron Bank that sounded interesting.”

Jon snorted. “With Professor Colemon?”

“Yes….”

“My friend Satin took it last year and _hated_ it. He said the teaching is below par, the sources you’re asked to look at biased in favour of what Colemon’s written and although it is an easy pass it isn’t worth anyone’s time. You should speak to him if you are interested in it, though.”

“See, this is why I keep you around. Hmm. I also liked the one on the Dance of the Dragons. That’s the one you took, wasn’t it?”

“Yep. Luwin takes that class. Well worth your time. It’s hard work but completely worth it.” Jon reeled off the main parties and the available sources and the alleged witch Alys Rivers. He didn’t even realize they’d been called for dinner.

“Jon? Sansa? That’s dinner on the table.” Jon looked up to see Ned had come for them. He felt his neck warm. That usually meant you’d missed the first and second calls for the meal. 

“Sorry”, he apologized. Jon set his work neatly on the side table and accepted his book on Brynden Rivers back from Sansa. “Let me know if you need someone to read your next draft. I could use someone to take a once-over on my Blackfyre assignment once its done.”

“What was it this time?” Robb rolled his eyes when Jon followed Sansa into the kitchen. Jon was pleased to find the only two seats left were opposite each other.

“I will have you know that we were having an intellectual discussion about Alys Rivers”, Sansa told her brother. Jon took a couple of slices of crusty bread and took in the deep aroma of the casserole Catelyn had made. It smelled heavenly. 

“What’s there to say? She was a witch”, replied Robb. At least, Jon was ninety five per cent certain that’s what he’d said. Robb’s mouth had been full of food as he spoke. 

“Don’t spray it. Just swallow and say it. Jeez”, groused Arya. 

“While there are sources claiming she was involved in witchcraft, the same was said on many powerful women in the medieval period as a means of discrediting them and their intelligence”, Sansa retorted.

“Exactly”, agreed Jon. 

“Gendry, Rickon and I have made a good start on the garage”, Ned announced. “We’ve cleared it up and we’ll be painting it tomorrow if anyone else wants to help.”

“I’ll need to check my social schedule, dad”, Arya replied. “Places to go and all.”

“How much painting could a midget like you do anyway?” Rickon asked her. 

“More than you. You never heard of a pair of ladders? Besides, at least I wouldn’t end up with paint all over me.”

“That was one time!”

“Yeah, and there was more paint on you than there was on the shed.”

“Uncle Brynden called”, said Catelyn, cutting across the bickering. “He suggested a video call later on this evening so your grandfather can see you. Edmure or Roslin will be able to get it set up for them. Apparently Riverrun village is full of second-home owners looking to get out of Maidenpool and King’s Landing.”

Jon sat quietly, working his way through his chicken and the lemon meringue pie that followed, listening to the Starks reminisce about childhood summer holidays in the Riverlands and allowing his mind to wander at the thought of a weekend in High Heart or Oldstones with Sansa. A weekend. Just the two of them. 

Gods, but he had to make up his mind to do something about this. Jon glanced over to see her laugh at the story Bran was telling. She was so beautiful. Beautiful and funny and smart. And Jon was desperate for her to be more than his _friend_.


	3. Three - Sansa

Sansa placed the tray on the floor and knocked on Jon’s bedroom door. It was mid-morning and her father said he’d only got up for a steaming mug of coffee before returning to the bedroom he was staying in. Sansa had been disappointed when he had failed to enter the family room where she, Robb and Jeyne studied. Every time she looked up from her book on the rise of White Harbour, it was her mother or father or Bran who had just entered the room. 

She missed him, and had made him a tray of black coffee and toast – well done, so it was almost burnt, and lathered in butter.

“Come in.” Sansa opened the door and saw Jon sat at the desk, a number of notebooks covered the surface and his laptop was open. “Sansa.”

“I thought you might be hungry.” She’d had some toast herself when Robb had announced they should take a break. Jon moved the notebooks to make room for her tray and Sansa saw him smile when his eyes caught sight of the toast. 

“Thank you, Sansa.” He picked up a slice of toast and began to eat. He lifted the plate with his free hand and raised it in her direction. 

Sansa shook her head and took a seat on the edge of Jon’s bed. “I already had some.” She glanced around the room, not having been in it since the redecoration earlier in the year, and took in the small touches of Jon in the room. A WHU t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants were at the top of the bed, presumably Jon had slept in them overnight, and the bedside table had books titled _The War Across the Water_ and _Defeat of the_ _Andals: Repulsion at Moat Cailin_ and _The Watchers on the Wall_.

“You after some peace and quiet, then?”

Jon chuckled at that through a mouthful of toast. “Something like that. Not used to living with so many people.”

Sansa felt a little relieved at that. She had been concerned that Jon was uncomfortable after what had happened the night before. They’d been watching a movie late into the evening, the two of them and Robb, Jeyne, Arya and Gendry, with Jon sitting next to her on the sofa. It hadn’t been intentional but the car chase sequences had failed to capture Sansa’s interest as usual and her eyes were tired from the reading she’d spent her day on. 

She hadn’t _meant_ to do it……..her eyes had simply grown tired and Jon’s shoulder had been oh, so inviting. Sansa hadn’t meant to fall asleep. Nor had she meant to wake up at the end of the movie to find she had slipped down and laid her head in Jon’s lap. There had been a look in his eyes when Sansa glanced up at him that she could not read. It was embarrassment tinged with something else…..something Sansa could not describe. 

Jon had simply raised his hand to his curls and tucked them behind his ear in that nervous way he had while Sansa sat bolt upright. Arya looked ready to pass comment and Sansa could feel her neck grow redder and redder, but thankfully Robb had stepped in and suggested they all call it a night. 

“Thank you, Sansa”, Jon said again as he started on the second piece. 

“Channel Seven has a new show starting tonight. A drama series about Brandon the Shipwright and Brandon the Burner. They’ve probably taken massive dramatic licence with regards to what we know about that period, but I thought we might watch it. If I tell Arya it is likely to be bloodthirsty in bits then she might be interested.”

“ _Might_ be interested, hmm?”

“Well, what do you think?”

“It sounds good.” He hesitated a little. “Yeah, it sounds good for tonight. What are you working on this morning?”

“Some notes on the development of White Harbour – trade routes and such. You?”

“First Night – the cultural practice and the ruling by King Jaehaerys that it be ended, and how that was felt in the North. I know we’re different to the rest of Westeros. Well, us _and_ Dorne, in truth, but is it strange that I both object to them taking away First Men culture and think the practice itself was horrific?”

“No. It means you’re a decent human being”, Sansa told him firmly. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like…..to finally be able to wed the man you love, only to have to spend your wedding night with a man you don’t want. It was tantamount to legalized rape.”

“I agree.” He looked at her with the same gaze he’d had the night before and Sansa wondered again what it meant. “I was going through Barth’s writings on the subject. He wasn’t in favour of it either.”

“Have you checked the news this morning?” Sansa asked, changing the subject, though she wished she could’ve found a more palatable one. 

“I did. I also had an e-mail from Aunt Dany to say things seem to be levelling out a bit in Meereen – though they’ve brought in stricter guidelines than here and she hasn’t been outside her front door in more than a month – and Rhae texted to say there was a cluster of cases in Planky Town. She should be alright at her uncle’s in Sunspear, though.”

Sansa liked Jon’s half-sister. Rhaenys was smart, funny and one of the few people for whom Jon truly smiled. Sansa liked to think she was another of said select few. 

“Only a handful of cases in Winterfell so far.”

“We’ll all get through this”, Jon told her softly. Sansa looked down and realized her hands were shaking. She sat on them and took a few deep breaths. Perhaps Jeyne would like to try another yoga workout later. Sansa had always found that a good way of curbing any anxiety she felt. 

“I should get back downstairs. Let you return to Septon Barth”, Sansa sighed. “Besides, the grocery store are due to deliver soon and I promised to help unpack it all.”

She took the coffee mug off the tray and set it on Jon’s desk. “I’ll take this back down with me.”

“Sansa?” Jon said softly when she reached the door. “If you – if you ever find it too noisy downstairs, you could always study here.”

“Thank you. I may just take you up on that – especially next week when Arya, Bran and Rickon will be home-schooling in the next room!” 

Sansa was halfway down the stairs when it came to her that if she found it too loud in the family room, she had a perfectly good bedroom with a perfectly good desk where she could study instead – and Jon was well aware of that. 

She grinned even wider at the thought of the invitation and became determined to take him up on it at some point. 

-

“So, how is it sleeping down the corridor from you know who?” Wynafrd asked her. Sansa was relieved she’d put in earphones for this video chat. 

“Don’t call him that!” she insisted. “He isn’t Voldemort!” She indicated her earphones and ‘Fryd seemed to catch on.

“Okay, how is it sleeping down the corridor from Jon? How easy is it getting to sleep at night knowing that he is mere meters away from you, quite possibly wearing nothing? Those pouty lips parting as he sleeps away?” Sansa groaned. It was _hell_. He’d be in his bed now, most likely, possibly reading one of those books she’d seen. It was after eleven and she’d heard the trudge of feet climbing the stairs not long ago.

Alright, it was _beyond hell_. And they had been back from White Harbour for what – a week? Sansa was hyper aware of everything Jon said, Peter Parker had his _spidey senses_ and Sansa seemed to have a similar kind of radar as far as Jon was concerned. 

“It would be easier to cope with if I hadn’t left a certain item in the top drawer of my _White Harbour_ bedside cabinet.” Maybe ‘Fryd could send it to her? Was leaving your apartment to go to the post office so you could send your roommate her vibrator classed as an essential purpose? Were post offices even open? Surely they were. 

Wynafryd burst into laughter. She made a rude gesture with her fingers that had Sansa face-palming, before eventually chuckling along with her. Her ability to make people laugh was one of the things Sansa loved about ‘Fryd.

“Order yourself a new one online. It’ll all be very discrete. I’m sure they’re big business just now. A lot of people are having to isolate away from partners and booty calls are unfortunately not allowed in the current climate.”

“I _couldn’t_. What if my mother asked what was in the parcel? What if someone else opened it – either by mistake or deliberately? No, I couldn’t stand the mortification of it just lying there on the kitchen table and everyone knowing.” Sansa shivered at the thought of it. More than once someone had opened her mail by mistake. She could just imagine the shame of her parents knowing she had one and the amusement of Arya…..

Gods, what if _JON_ saw it?

“Well, it seems to me that you have three choices – ordering a new one, your fingers, or sexual frustration. Oh, no, there’s a fourth – tell Jon you fancy the pants off him and would quite like him to remove yours.”

“While we’re in lockdown with my entire immediate family is not the time to be doing that. It’d make things so awkward. Robb would start asking questions he really doesn’t want to know the answers to.”

“Why would it be awkward? Because everyone would know he wasn’t actually sleeping in the spare room?”

“When he says _Sorry, Sansa, but I don’t feel that way about you._ ”

“Yeah, he’s not saying that.”

Sansa wished that were true. She had built up such a great relationship with Jon since moving to White Harbour that she was reluctant to risk it. ‘Fryd was her best friend from college and her roommate, Jeyne Poole her best friend growing up, Robb and Arya her closest siblings…….but when she got an _A_ on her latest paper or she came across a cute puppy at the animal shelter where she volunteered once a week, and needed to be talked down from adopting the pooch, it was _Jon_ she wanted to speak to first.

When she’d had a bad day and was feeling lousy, it was Jon who could perk her up again. Often not by saying too much of anything. Just being there helped.

Sansa didn’t want to lose that.

“How are you?” Sansa asked. “You’re doing okay on your own?”

‘Fryd was a very social person, involved in numerous societies and helping to organize protests, and Sansa worried about her isolating alone. She worried that the novelty would wear off long before the lockdown ended.

“I am. I am enjoying the peace and the quiet and getting time to myself to just _think_. Also, it isn’t like I’ve cut myself off from all human contact. My family seem to find it necessary to video call me several times a day, Robin is in touch daily and so are a few others. I spend a lot of my time now on video conferencing apps.”

Robin Flint was ‘Fryd’s on-off boyfriend/booty call. Sansa couldn’t keep up with the two of them. They were both student activists and for all her friend claimed not to have the time for a full-time relationship, if Robin asked then Wynafryd would _find_ the time. Sansa, who had been woken by the two of them more than once, didn’t want to know what was happening on their video calls.

“How’s your family?”

“Good. Gramps and dad are hoarding food. Wylla says they call it _being prepared_ and _making sure we’ve got enough stored up in case we develop symptoms and can’t go out to the store_. She’s protesting by using dad’s credit card to buy food online and donating it to a food bank. I give it around a week and a half before he realizes. The only thing Wylla’s stockpiled is hair dye.”

“That sounds like a very Wylla protest.”

“It is. She hasn’t spent the money on tinned soup and beans. No. Not Wylla. She’s spent it on gourmet vegan meals. Whoever gets the food will be eating very healthily. Some of that stuff costs a fortune. I’ve asked her to video call me when dad and gramps find out. _That_ is something I’ll be sorry to miss.”

-

“That was Roslin on the phone”, her mother said, coming back to the table. They were almost finished dinner and Sansa was looking forward to a relaxing evening with no studying involved. She’d spent the entire day redrafting the essay she’d shown Jon on the Night’s Watch/Free Folk alliance and polishing it. Sansa thought she might go cross-eyed if she had to spend the evening in front of a laptop screen. 

“Has grandfather found that stuff he was going to look out for my family history project?” Sansa heard Rickon ask. 

“No, that wasn’t what she was calling about.” Sansa was concerned by the look on her mother’s face. Had someone – had grandfather tested positive? Or Uncle Brynden? Or Edmure?

“Who?” Sansa asked softly. She knew they were all thinking it.

“Roslin’s father. He’s ninety, so it is a concern. His wife will take care of him, I’m sure. I can’t remember what this new one’s called.”

“Aunt Roslin’s father gets married like it’ll go out of fashion soon. He’s a serial husband – a sort of serial monogamist taken to extremes”, Arya informed Gendry. “What is this one – nine or ten?”

Her father coughed. “I believe Joy is the eighth Mrs. Frey.”

“Yeuch.” Arya made a face. “I don’t care how rich he is, you wouldn’t catch me being number nine. Do you think some of the kids and grandkids just call them by their numbers?”

Sansa felt Jon, who was squeezed in next to her on the bench, almost choke at that. She handed him a glass of water. “Thanks”, he said a moment later, his voice hoarse. Sansa thought he was used to Arya by now, but her sister would be pleased to hear she still had it in her to surprise or shock Jon.

“Ros said she hadn’t seen any of her family in a month or so, which is a bless – “ Her mother stopped talking and seemed to realize what she’d said. “Roslin won’t need to be tested. Nor father, Edmure and Uncle Brynden.”

Nobody ate much after the news. None of them had particularly _liked_ Roslin’s father when they’d been introduced to him at the wedding, but it was still a name and a face to the statistics on the TV news reports they’d all but stopped watching in an attempt to stave off anxiety.

Her father commandeered Rickon to help him with the dishes, amid grumbles of arrangements for a _Car Chase Westeros: Oldtown Edition_ marathon online with his friends. While her mother went to make some family calls, the rest of them tried to decide on how to spend their evening. 

“We could start a new boxset?” Arya suggested. “There must be a genre or three we haven’t even gone near yet.”

“I’m going to my room. Meera and I are going to spend the evening planning our first episode.”

“First episode of what?” Arya asked. 

“We’re starting a podcast on the Children of the Forest.”

“Bran, the Children are fables”, Robb tried to tell him. Sansa rolled her eyes. She knew how this argument ended. She’d seen it a hundred times. Robb was logical and Bran was a dreamer. And neither of them could truly see the other’s perspective. 

“I think a podcast sounds like a great way to keep yourself busy, Bran”, Sansa told him. She might not necessarily have chosen the same topic, but Sansa wanted to be supportive of her brother. Besides, they would be stuck indoors almost constantly for the foreseeable future and studying and reading and watching boxsets only took up so much of your time. 

Bran left the room, and Sansa glanced over at the sink where her father was chatting away to Rickon, while he growled and loaded the dishwasher. 

“………not another action flick.” Jeyne’s grumbles redirected Sansa’s attention back to the table. “Please, no. Sansa, back me up on this.”

“Yeah, I’m not really up for another one. Maybe there’s something we could all decide on.”

“Doubtful. I’m not watching some sugary sweet chick flick”, Robb insisted. 

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “I wasn’t asking you to. I said _something we could all decide on_.” 

“We all like Harry Potter”, Jon reasoned. 

“We also marathoned it the first day you were back for the holidays”, said Arya. 

Five minutes later, it had turned into a heated debate – mostly between Robb and Arya – and Sansa could have sworn she heard Jon muttering under his breath that, actually, being an only child was not the worst thing in the world. She nudged his shoulder lightly and got a grin in response. 

“Enough!” Jeyne announced in a tone that silenced everyone. She pinched the bridge of her nose and it struck Sansa that her brother’s girlfriend might make a good teacher someday. “Maybe we don’t watch a boxset or a movie tonight. How – tell you what, how about we have a games night? There’s six of us. Most board games are six players, and for the ones that aren’t, we could split into three teams of two.”

“We could do that, I guess”, Arya conceded. While grateful to have escaped the TV argument, Sansa wondered if Jeyne knew what she was getting herself into. For all that she and Robb had been together for years, Sansa had grown up with Arya. She had yet to meet anyone as stubborn and competitive as her sister. 

-

A couple of hours into their games night, Sansa thought things were going well. Gendry’s quick thinking with a dictionary had headed off a potential confrontation between Sansa and Arya during _Scrabble_ and Jeyne seemed to be consoling Robb well enough over his narrow defeat at _Trivial Pursuit_. 

“I haven’t played this version before”, Jeyne said when Sansa lay out the board for _Monopoly_. They had the Northern game, which was the same as the standard Westerosi one, except there were Northern towns on it instead of the thoroughfares of King’s Landing. Queenscrown and Torrhen’s Square instead of Street of Steel and Eel Alley and Flea Bottom.

Sansa felt a warm hand on her left shoulder and froze slightly. Jon leaned down. “You want a glass of wine?” She gulped, and nodded, wishing she could grasp his hand and hold it tightly. 

They were close together on the bench and every so often her thigh or her knee or her shoulder would bump against Jon’s and Sansa would feel it from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. Robb had his arm around Jeyne half the time and Arya always tended to lean into Gendry, in such a way that Sansa didn’t even think her sister realized she was doing it. 

Sansa wanted that with Jon. She wanted to hold his hand under the table and squeeze his thigh. She wanted him to –

“There you go, Sans.” She almost jumped from the bench, her thoughts pulled away from the image of Jon’s thumb rubbing circles on her leg and how delicious if would be if his hand moved further up that leg. 

“Uh, thanks. Thanks, Jon.” She busied herself with laying out the pieces as Jon sat down. Arya returned from her bathroom break and Robb brought over some beers. 

“This takes me back”, Jon commented. Sansa recalled summer holidays in which Jon stayed over late after dinner, sometimes with Lyanna who would have wine on the decking with her parents after, and the kids would all play games. 

It had been years, but Sansa still wondered if he’d thrown that _Cluedo_ game. It was the last one of the night and they’d all won at least once (even a very young Rickon, who’d been on Robb’s team). All except Sansa, and Lyanna had said she and Jon were going home after that round. It was her last chance and Jon’s turn was before hers. She’d seen him hesitate, just for a fraction of a second. 

_“Colonel Mustard in the kitchen with the candlestick”, he’d said._

_“Jon, you’re stupid”, Arya had told him. “Robb just showed the candlestick.”_

_“I mustn’t have been paying attention.” Sansa was sure he had, though, and he’d smiled at her when she guessed the murder weapon was really the dagger._

Sansa went to pick up the giant, knowing Robb and Arya would fight over the direwolf piece, and found Jon’s fingers knocking hers. 

“Sorry”, he apologised. “I knew going for the direwolf was pointless, so – you should take it. I can always go the lizard lion.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You won _Trivial Pursuit_ , so I figure you’ve got dibs on it.”

Sansa also won the opportunity to go first, rolling the highest score with the dice. Normally Arya whined if she didn’t get to go first, but beating Robb to the direwolf piece seemed to have silenced any protests. But, it didn’t seem to be a lucky beginning for Sansa. She rolled a six, and then a five, but a few turns later and she was headed for jail. 

“I didn’t even make it round the board once! That can’t be fair”, she grumbled. 

“Giant to jail”, Jon commented. He had a slight grin, as well he might, being the furthest round of all of them so far. “Cheer up. It’s your giant handcuffed in a cell, not you.”

Jon got a strange look in his eyes then and coughed, picking up the dice and rolling them. “Oh, look. Seven.”

Sansa didn’t pay much attention to the space Jon was landing on. She wouldn’t mind being handcuffed if it was Jon tying the cuffs. Sansa could see it in her mind’s eye, her handcuffed naked to bed railings while Jon licked and sucked and kissed every last inch of her, while she screamed his name and begged, pleaded, sobbed for more. 

She rubbed her legs together, looking for friction. 

Maybe she could handcuff Jon after. Sansa wondered what he’d taste like. How salty he would be……

“Sansa? Sans? Earth to Sansa?” Arya waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s your turn. Are you alright? You’re starting to go a bit red.”

“Wine”, she mumbled, picking up the dice. She avoided Jon’s eyes and hoped nobody round the table had been able to read her mind for the last few minutes.

-

Sansa woke early the following morning and read a chapter of the novel she’d started a couple of nights earlier before moving. It was set some thirty years earlier in Queenscrown, about a group of philosophy students. The sun was peeking through the edges of her curtains, however and Sansa knew she might as well get up and start the day. 

Jon had promised to look at her redrafted essay while she read over some of what he’d written for one of his classes. She’d been so nervous the first time he’d asked her to do it – he was, after all, two years ahead of her – but Jon had insisted he was looking to see if she could follow his argument and if he had persuaded her as to the validity of the points he was making. Now, it was common place. Sansa rarely found much wrong, understandable given his acceptance onto the WHU Masters programme for Northern History. 

Sansa was pleased he wouldn’t be leaving the city at the end of the semester. 

She got out of bed and yawned widely, stretching herself out. Sansa could feel the need for a yoga session and decided to ask Jeyne if she wanted one before dinner. If it stayed nice out, then they could take their mats into the garden and stretch there. 

Her washbag was in its usual place and Sansa left her night braid in. She’d tied it up after her shower the night before. The night before…….gods, had board games ever left her so turned on and in need of the vibrator currently languishing in White Harbour? With a couple of glasses of wine to fortify her, Sansa had done her best with the shower head, but still. Nothing could truly match someone who knew what they were doing. Right? Sansa had been with three boyfriends and each of them had been better than the one before. 

Sansa wondered yet again how it would be with Jon. 

Fuck. At least with her vibrator around, Sansa could pretend that it hadn’t been – what, nine months, shit had it really been that long??? – since she’d split from sweet Cley Cerwyn. It had been _nice_ with Cley. But somehow Sansa sensed it would be so, so, _so_ much better with Jon. 

Sansa contemplated it as she walked to the bathroom to brush her teeth. She was relieved for the extra bathroom her parents had added when they extended the house the summer after she turned twelve. With ten of them in the same house, bathrooms became a commodity. Her parents had an en-suite and there was a toilet and sink just off the kitchen, plus there were two bathrooms with showers upstairs. Sansa normally used the one between her room and the guest room – partly because of the proximity, and partly because it wasn’t the one her brothers tended to use. 

She yawned and opened the door to be confronted with a sight that Sansa knew instantly would haunt her dreams, tormenting her. 

Jon was bending over to pick up a wet towel, his damp curls sticking to his head. He was clearly naked, another towel wrapped around him to protect his modesty sadly, but those muscles in his back. They rippled up his spine and Sansa hoped the whining she was hearing in her mind wasn’t audible. 

She must’ve made some sort of noise, though, because Jon straightened up suddenly and turned around. His cheeks were flushed, though Sansa put that down as much to the steam from the shower as to any embarrassment he might be feeling. 

“I – uh – I unlocked the door and then realised I’d forgotten to lift my towel off the floor.” He held it up and coughed. “Sorry, Sans. I’ll – you’ll want to get it on – get in, I mean. Get in the shower.”

He did seem embarrassed, but Sansa was too busy drinking him in to care. The abs and that delicious down of dark hair leading to the promised land……..

She shook herself out of her thoughts. “I had a shower last night. Got all washed then. Showers are good.” Sansa remembered her wash bag. “I was going to brush my teeth.” She needed it to be clear that there was a genuine reason for her presence.

“Of course. Well, I’ll go and get dried off, then. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

“Yes. Breakfast.” _Which I wish I could eat off those abs of yours, Jon Snow._

When Sansa had finished up in the bathroom she went back to her bedroom and lay face down on her bed, screaming silently into her pillow in frustration. 


	4. Four - Jon

_While the title_ Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch _was neither hereditary nor granted by feudal patronage, there were those who thought to try and circumvent the tradition of election that went back thousands of years, perhaps to the very conception of the Night’s Watch itself._

Jon read the introductory three lines to the chapter for the fourth time and tried to take them in, fighting the temptation to lower his book and glance to the other side of the garden where Sansa was currently engaged in a yoga session alongside Jeyne and Arya. It was a warm and sunny day, giving the impression it was summer rather than spring, and so Jeyne had suggested they take their yoga mats outside to stretch. 

He was sitting on a lounge chair next to Robb – who had given up pretending to read and was openly staring at Jeyne do a stretch Jon didn’t know the name of - and beyond him sat Bran, who was filling a notebook with ideas for his new podcast. Jon was relieved they couldn’t see into his mind and his libidinous thoughts about their sister. He stifled a groan as they did that pose again, the one where their asses were up in the air. 

Jon tried not to think about how much he wanted to caress Sansa’s ass and take her from behind. Yes, _definitely_ a good thing neither Robb nor Bran could read his mind. 

_While the title_ Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch _was neither hereditary nor granted by feudal patronage, there were those who thought to try and circumvent the tradition of election that went back thousands of years, perhaps to the very conception of the Night’s Watch itself._

Jon re-read the opening lines for a fifth time. He’d written his dissertation on one aspect of the history of the Night’s Watch, but he’d also taken a class on the subject and that dealt with far more than their alliance with the Free Folk.

One more glance……

Jon was doomed. _Doomed_. Thankfully Sansa wore some sort of vest with her yoga pants rather than just a sports bra. That was something at least to aid Jon in his hope that his feelings for Sansa were not written across his face in permanent ink.

The past few days had been a deep, sweet torture for him. First had come the night where Arya and Robb had insisted on watching some Gerold Hightower action flick, which had Sansa bored within the first five minutes. He could hear her yawning next to him and then felt her head on his shoulder. Jon found he liked it there and he thought Sansa must’ve been comfortable, because during the scene where Hightower shot his way out of a bank robbery she moved and her head was on his chest and then in his lap, her breathing relaxed and even as she slept. 

Jon had pointedly ignored the looks Arya was sending him after she clocked the way he was running his hands through Sansa’s long, soft locks. Thankfully he had somehow managed not to get hard, but it had been a close thing. 

Then, there had been game night. Sansa was sat next to him again, their knees and elbows knocking, thighs up against one another. Her scent filled his nose and fuckkkkkkk…….. _Monopoly_. That time he _did_ start to get hard. The image of Sansa lying in his bed, handcuffed to it, writhing under him while he mapped out every inch of her body with his tongue had been matched only by another in which _he_ was the one handcuffed and she rode his face for what felt like hours. 

Jon squirmed in his seat at the memory of it. What had possessed him to make a comment about handcuffs to Sansa?

That had all been before this morning. This morning, he’d been for a shower before breakfast and Sansa had walked in just as he was gathering his laundry. The thought of her being in the room where not ten minutes earlier he’d taken himself in hand and got himself off thinking of Sansa, had short-circuited his brain and Jon thought himself lucky to have got out of there without _too_ much embarrassment.

Now, Jon was sitting a few meters away from a stretching, flexible Sansa while he pretended to read a book on the Night’s Watch, thanking the old gods and the new that her brothers couldn’t read his mind and panicking over how completely doomed and fucked he was. 

His more than friendly feelings for Sansa showed no sign of abating and it had got to the point where Jon didn’t think he wanted them to. It just – it was a BIG step, going friends to more than that, and if she said _no_ then they’d be stuck here, mortified, unable to distance themselves from each other until their old, pre-feelings dynamic could be re-established.

 _While the title_ Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch _was neither hereditary nor granted by feudal patronage, there were those who thought to try and circumvent the tradition of election that went back thousands of years, perhaps to the very conception of the Night’s Watch itself._

Who was he kidding? If the words weren’t registering with his brain the first five times, he doubted they would on the sixth. Jon set the book aside and pushed his glasses up to the top of his head so he could rub his eyes. 

“You read too much”, Robb told him. 

“Not possible”, came Bran’s voice. “You can never read too much. Jojen said to me once that a reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one.” 

“The sunshine is playing havoc with my concentration”, said Jon. He took a drink of the water he’d brought outside with him. “How’s the first episode coming along, Bran?”

“Good. I’m just trying to work out an introduction to it.”

“I’m thinking I might get Jeyne some yoga stuff for her birthday next month”, said Robb.

“Yoga _stuff_?” Bran sounded sceptical. 

“Hmm. What do you think Jon?”

Jon glanced over at the three girls, trying to hide how much he was thirsting over Sansa, and shrugged. “It seems to be a relaxing way to exercise.” Sansa stood up and shook out her arms before stretching. Jon watched her chest rise and fall with her breathing and thought again that he was doomed. Very, very _doomed_. 

-

“Say hi to everyone”, Jon told his half-sister as he scanned his iPad around the family room. They’d all piled in here after dinner – all except Ned and Catelyn, who had taken themselves off to Ned’s study/office and what Jon presumed was peace and relative quiet. He had promised to call Rhae tonight to check in with her. 

“Hi everyone!” Rhae shouted. “Ready to kill each other yet?”

“We’re managing to restrain ourselves so far. How about you?” Jon replied. 

“We banished Oberyn and Ellaria to the summer house. I swear those two missed their calling. The adult film industry is lesser with their absence.” Jon would’ve choked on that had he not known Rhae so well. She was beautifully blunt and honest and having met her uncle and his long-term partner, Jon could quickly figure out that whoever had banished them had most likely done so for the common good of everyone else.

“That bad, huh?”

“The night Arianne and Daemon seemed to be trying to turn it into some sort of competition was the final straw. We’re Dornish, but we still have limits. Mama looks after the little ones if they need anything during the night so they’re not running past the swimming pool in the dark. They don’t usually, but they know she’s there if they do.”

“I wish we had a swimming pool”, Sansa mused aloud from next to him. 

“An ice pool more like!” Rhae insisted, as Jon tried to weigh up seeing Sansa in a bikini with having to do so while hiding the inevitable hardness it would lead to. He guestimated it would take less than an hour before Arya called him out on it. 

Maybe half an hour IF he was lucky.

“It isn’t that cold here, Rhae”, Sansa retorted. “Not in late spring and during the summer.”

“I’ll allow you the right to your own opinions. But I will point out – as Jon knows well enough – that our winters are warmer than your summers. How’s Lyanna getting on in that ice hole she’s been digging through?”

“Writing up their findings and hustling her co-workers out of chocolate and biscuits at cards. The ones she’s sharing the cabin with don’t drink, otherwise she’d be hustling them out of liquor as well.” His mother’s mother had worked in a casino and taught her daughter well. “How about Elia?”

“Fussing over Oberyn and Ellaria’s girls and making sure Uncle Doran takes his medication.”

“And the MS?”

“He has good days and bad. Same as always. You know, I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to seeing almost everyone over a screen. I swear the first thing I’m going to do when this thing is over is find someone I’m _not_ related to and fuck out my frustration.”

Jon wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. Rhae was his _sister_. He knew she’d had boyfriends and girlfriends in the past. He’d even met a few of them. Still, her sex life wasn’t a subject he ever wanted to discuss with her. Whenever he told her that, however, Rhae simply rolled her eyes and called him a prudish Northerner.

“Arianne and Daemon getting to you?”

“Yes and no. Not because – it was a one night thing seven years ago – just an irritation that I don’t have anyone to release my stress with. I brought a few things with me but I can always order more from the online store. They must be really busy right now.”

“I’m sure a lot of online businesses are.”

His horny mind turned to Sansa, in a similar position to Rhae. Around couples and single. Did she have something she used to destress? Jon could feel his ears and neck redden at the thought of her with her head thrown back as she climaxed…..

“What’s wrong, little brother? You don’t need to go all red. I didn’t even mention the word _vibrator_. I swear you Northmen have veins made of ice.” Jon glanced around the room and saw Gendry’s awkwardness, Robb’s raised eyebrows and Rickon’s badly-hidden curiosity. “Sorry. You’re too easy to tease, Jon.”

“We manage fine, Rhae. How have you been filling your days?”

“I’ve worked my way through my Netflix watch-list. I’ve managed to design a few things for next season but I’m not sure they’ll get made if we can’t open up properly. I got commissioned to design Lynesse Hightower’s wedding dress – I don’t think I told you that last time we spoke – this’ll be husband number four, but the engagement might not make it through quarantine.”

“Who? Is she some relation to Gerold Hightower?”

“His niece. Or great-niece. I forget which. She’s made a living marrying and divorcing rich older men. This one is Essosi. From Volantis.”

Rhae had been a junior designer for a couture fashion house for a few years, but had recently branched out on her own. He was deliriously proud of her – even if he didn’t have the first idea of what constituted fashion. Rhae worked hard and was making a success of things.

“How’s Aegon?”

Rhae rolled her eyes. “You could ask Egg yourself, you know.”

“I could, but you know how things always get awkward between us.”

While he and Rhae had been close since childhood, he and Aegon had never quite hit it off. Their father had gone back to Elia after his short-lived relationship with Lyanna had ended and one of his step-mother’s conditions in taking him back had been that Rhaegar provide for Jon. He had done so, until his death from an undiagnosed heart condition when Jon was twelve. Since then, Lyanna and Elia had somehow become friendly and they made sure contact between the half-siblings was maintained.

What Jon had always found strange was that Rhae was far closer to their mother than Aegon was, and yet he had found it harder to accept Jon. 

“The two of you need to get over yourselves. We’re in the middle of a pandemic and – please, Jon, promise you’ll at least _try_ with him. For me.”

“For you”, Jon agreed. He would text Aegon later. That was usually the best way for them to communicate. “He still in King’s Landing?”

“He is”, Rhae confirmed. “In lockdown in the company of that model he’s been seeing recently, Margaery Tyrell. She’s pretty, but more Egg’s type than mine.”

“They serious?”

“It’s _Egg_. Doubtful. Listen, I need to go now. Arianne is calling up that our dinner’s just been delivered. Look after yourself and I’ll call again soon. Bye everyone!”

“Bye Rhae!”

“You take care too”, Jon told his sister. 

“Love you, little brother.”

“Love you too.”

-

Sansa was biting her lip in a way that Jon found nothing short of adorable as she read through the first draft of his Blackfyre essay. After a couple of days working through reading for his Night’s Watch class, Jon had returned to this assignment after giving time for his thoughts on the subject to settle. They were a week into lockdown now, and it worried Jon a little how quickly this had become the new normal. 

He typically woke early, had coffee and toast with Ned, and then studied until mid-morning when Sansa or Catelyn would force home baking or more toast on him. Some days he would study alone in the bedroom he was staying in, and on others he would join Robb and Jeyne and Sansa in the family room or at the kitchen table.

They’d just finished their morning break now, having devoured a fresh batch of fruit scones Catelyn had baked after breakfast, and Sansa had promised to read through his first draft after. 

Jon allowed himself to watch Sansa as she read through it on his laptop screen and scribbled notes on her notepad. She hadn’t bothered to dry her hair after her morning shower, simply tying it up in a loose braid, and Jon found it glistened in the morning sunshine beaming through the kitchen window. 

She hesitated slightly, but then wrote something down. Although he was tempted to lean over and see what she was writing down, Jon held himself back and simply watched her. He hoped his feelings weren’t written all over his face but recognized it was a definite possibility. Arya’s pointed looks were increasing in frequency and a part of Jon felt he was almost holding his breath, waiting for the moment when she totally called him out on it.

Thankfully, Arya was currently out on her daily walk with Gendry and not here to see Jon staring at her sister.

“Well?” Jon asked a few minutes later, when Sansa seemed to have finished reading. 

“Please, Jon, you have to know that it’s amazing. Seriously. I have questions more than anything – really because your knowledge on the material is much more in-depth than mine.”

“Hardly surprising given the rebellions are barely taught in schools and your degree is in _Northern History_. I didn’t know that much about them before I started this class – other than the Northern involvement in the War of the Ninepenny Kings.” The North had tended to stay out of Southron squabbles at that time and Jon had chosen to study the history of the _North_ for a reason. 

“So, I was just wondering about the second one – you mention Bittersteel not supporting it. I just don’t understand _why_. I mean, wasn’t this Daemon II the eldest living son of Daemon I?”

“He was. And, to be honest, we don’t know for certain why Bittersteel didn’t support him. Perhaps he didn’t consider Daemon II martial enough – he had dragon dreams and this tourney looks to have been fixed so that he won, suggesting he wasn’t the embodiment of the Warrior his father was. That is my thinking anyway. Daemon II wasn’t enough like his father. Could be financial, though, or that Bittersteel didn’t believe the timing right either in terms of their support or the political climate.”

“You should mention that”, Sansa told him. “See, this is what I always say to you! You need to remember that not all of us are as smart as you are.”

Jon snorted. 

“What? It’s true”, she insisted, fidgeting with the end of her braid. “You’re knowledgeable about this, Jon, you really are. Accept the compliment.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to get myself a coffee. You want one?”

“Please.”

While Sansa filled the kettle, Jon stood up and went over to the cupboard to help. He reached up to the middle shelf and took down two _Star Wars_ mugs, a Luke and a Leia, and turned round quickly to find Sansa right behind him. 

“Sorry!” She was flushed slightly as she said it, but Jon followed it up with a reluctant apology of his own. Part of him _wasn’t_ sorry that she’d had to steady herself by holding onto him. In fact, as far as Jon was concerned, Sansa could hold onto him as much as she wanted. 

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get the milk from the fridge”, said Jon quietly. “Yes, milk.”

No, milk, Jon thought as he pulled the bottle out of the fridge. It reminded him of the soft, alabaster tone of Sansa’s skin for some reason and Jon recalled the evening before when Sansa had gone out for a run after dinner in what appeared to be yoga pants and a sports bra. 

Sansa had gone for a run and Jon had pictured thus while having a shower. He coughed now and willed himself not to get hard again. It wasn’t a big deal. It was, but it wasn’t. Sansa had been the star of his masturbatory fantasies for months now. The image of her in that sports bra and those yoga pants was just one of many he had conjured up while dreaming of the real thing. 

_Fuck_. When had he turned into an animal? He never used to be like this. But, then, he’d never had months of attraction and frustration build up like this before. Jon _had_ to distract himself. 

When Sansa handed him his cup of coffee, he mumbled something about going upstairs to work through some notes about the 13th Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch. 

“Oh.” He felt both hope and disappointment in himself at the sad tone of her voice.

-

Cycling through the middle of Winterfell alongside Robb, Jon felt as if they were moving through a ghost town. It was early in the evening, but all the shops still permitted to open had closed for the day and the restaurants and bars were shut up. They’d passed the odd resident out for a walk, run or cycle, but for the most part it was just the two of them. 

Robb had insisted on it, suggesting he borrow Ned’s bike as his own remained in White Harbour, and Jon had found it difficult to say no. He could hardly say that he would prefer to spend his evening next to Sansa on the sofa. That would lead to questions Jon definitely did NOT want to answer. 

“It’s been ages since the last time I did this”, sighed Robb as they slowed their speed. “I can’t remember when I last took my bike out in White Harbour.” Jon, on the other hand, cycled to class sometimes if he wasn’t intending to take a pile of books home from the library.

“So quiet out”, Jon commented. 

“It is. Listen – I know that I’ve been caught up with Jeyne since we came home for the holidays – “

“You don’t need to apologise for that. I knew you’d spend most of your time with her when I agreed to come back to Winterfell. I did think about spending the holidays in White Harbour.” If Jon was honest, it was Sansa’s presence in Winterfell that had swayed his decision.

“Good thing you didn’t if Sam invited Gilly to stay. You’d have been stuck playing third wheel to the two of them in their new couple phase.” Jon laughed loudly at that. “What?”

“You do realize that you and Jeyne still act like you’re in that phase sometimes?”

“I know. That’s why I’m sorry you’ve been palmed off on Sansa so much.”

“I like spending time with Sansa. Sansa…….has become a good friend”, Jon told him defiantly. They may have got to know each other through Robb, but Jon knew he and Sansa had enough in common now to have got to know each other regardless. And maybe, if things had happened that way, he wouldn’t be second guessing himself and repressing his feelings for Sansa all the damn time. As Sansa’s brother Robb had no veto power over Sansa’s dates, but the fact that she was Robb’s sister made it as complicated as their friendship did.

Jon stood to lose so much if Sansa didn’t feel the same way as he did. 

Robb hit the brakes and pulled his bike to a halt. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then don’t say it _like that_. Sansa and I study together and get coffee in White Harbour. Why shouldn't I hang out with her here because I want to and not just by default? If Sam had come with us then you wouldn’t be apologising for all the time I’m spending with him. Don’t do it for Sansa.”

Robb was a very protective older brother, and Jon thought sometimes that he saw Sansa and Arya, and Bran and Rickon, as his younger siblings first and as people second. He didn’t doubt Robb loved all of them – it was just that when they looked at her, Robb saw his sweet younger sister and Jon saw _Sansa_. A smart, witty and loving young woman. Not that Jon thought Robb should see Sansa the same way he did….just as herself.

“What about you and Rhae?” Robb retorted. “You get uncomfortable when she talks about some stuff. I thought you were going to have a seizure when she started talking about her sex life.”

“I am happy to talk to Rhae about her relationships.” Jon knew she’d told _him_ about her bisexuality and the confusion she’d worked through before she’d told Aegon, and he loved that she trusted him enough with to do so. “However, the details of her sex life…… not so much. But, then, I don’t want to talk to you or Sam or Jeyne or Gilly about the details of your sex lives either.”

“We should get back.” Robb moved back a little on the seat and started cycling again. They were silent for most of the ride back and Jon felt guilty for getting on Robb’s back about Sansa. He wasn’t sure he had any right to. However much he wanted more, Sansa was only his friend. She was neither his girlfriend nor his sister and Jon didn’t know he had any right to speak about her like that to her brother. 

“I’m sorry for what I said”, Jon reiterated when they put their bikes away. “I just – this whole living with lots of people at once is weird. Even when I went to stay in Dorne, it wasn’t with Rhae’s entire family.”

“I think we’re all on edge a bit.” Catelyn’s brother had called that afternoon to report his father-in-law had been moved to the ICU at Green Fork General. His wife had also tested positive, as had another few members of the family, all of whom were resting at home. “When we were growing up I was always in and out of the house and we could go out with friends. It was only really family holidays when we were all pushed together all the time, though Sansa would usually find a quiet corner with a book or play a game with Rickon, and I’d go fishing or whatever with dad.”

When they went back into the house, everyone – including Ned and Catelyn – were sitting in the family room, debating what movie to watch. Jon smiled at the sight of Sansa curled up on the sofa with a space next to her that he knew was meant for him. 


	5. Five - Sansa

“This is bliss”, Sansa murmured with a sigh. She lay on top of her bed, eyes closed, and allowed herself to concentrate on her breathing. Sansa had not felt close to this relaxed since coming home for break.

“Definitely”, Jeyne agreed. She lay next to Sansa and must’ve brought her phone with her as soon there was a calming jazz number playing. 

Rickon had suggested they all have a gaming tournament and while it wasn’t her favourite thing to do, Sansa had agreed to take part to make up the numbers. Jeyne had come to her rescue, however, and proposed instead that they treat themselves to the penultimate pack of face masks left in the luggage Sansa had brought with her from White Harbour. 

She breathed in and allowed the smell of mango and strawberry to fill her nose. These had been part of a pack of _Melisandre’s Thirty Minute Miracle Masks_ ‘Fryd had gifted Sansa on her birthday a few weeks earlier. Remembering she had a face mask on, Sansa forced herself not to smile at the memory of the silver mermaid necklace Jon had given her. Instead, Sansa raised her fingers to her neck and made sure it was sitting right. 

In spite of being in the throes of dissertation stress he’d taken her out for lunch at _Seal Rock_ , a seafood restaurant at the harbour that sold the most divine lemon cheesecake.

“Thank you for suggesting this.” Being on Jon’s team would’ve been consolation for having to play in their tournament, but Sansa was well aware she’d be the weak link in the team – and the reason they’d likely place last. 

“I don’t mind video games from time to time. That said, I know how Robb’s competitive side will come out when he’s up against Rickon and Arya and I’m nowhere near as good as Bran and Gendry. Jon will make it a more even fight.”

 _And maybe it will snap the two of them out of whatever it was they were brooding about_ , Sansa thought. There had been a tension of sorts between them from a couple of days. Perhaps it was simply a result of the lockdown. Robb had been mopey and grumbly and Jon had been quieter than usual – most of the time, anyway. Sansa felt guilty because she’d liked that he sat next to her at every meal and spoke to her all the time. 

Not about Robb, though. No. Whatever had happened when they were out cycling three nights ago, Jon would not discuss it with Sansa voluntarily and she’d never force a confidence about his friendship with her brother.

“Do you know what they disagreed about?” Sansa asked. She heard the hesitation in Jeyne’s silence. 

“I know what they talked about the other night, if that’s what you’re asking. Personally, I think they both made good points.”

The alarm on Sansa’s phone went off, telling them it was time to wipe off the mask. She took a pack of wet wipes out of the cabinet next to her bed and handed a few to Jeyne. Sansa removed the mask methodically as always, starting with her forehead and working her way down to her chin. She also took note of the fact that Jeyne hadn’t had time to answer her question properly. 

Once they’d binned the used wet wipes, Sansa took up her quest for information again. 

“You never said what Jon and Robb were talking about.”

“Promise you will be quiet until I finish?” Sansa furrowed her brow, but nodded. Arya was the impetuous one, not Sansa. “Okay. It was a little bit about you.”

Sansa’s heart skipped a beat. Why would Robb and Jon be arguing about her? “Me? Why would they be arguing about me?” 

Gods, had Robb figured out she wanted Jon and was pleading with him to let her down gently? No, Jon would do that anyway. He would do it awkwardly, but he would do it gently. Did he not like that she was spending time with Jon? Did he think she was trying to steal his best friend?

“They aren’t arguing. Not really. Jon said something that’s had Robb brooding. He might not do it as well as Jon, but he can still produce a competitive brood when required. Men! They went out cycling because Robb felt guilty that he and I were spending all our time together, which meant that he wasn’t hanging out with Jon.”

“But that isn’t going to bother Jon.”

“I know, but Robb is Robb and so I suggested they go cycling. In any case, Jon didn’t take too kindly to Robb’s apology – probably because Robb brought you into the conversation. I don’t know what his exact words were, but Jon took offense to Robb blundering into the implication that Jon was only spending time with you because the two of them weren’t glued to each other’s sides.”

“What?”

“Jon – rightly so – reminded Robb that the two of you are friends and therefore Jon does like spending time with you.”

“Okay.” Sansa lay back down on her bed and tried to process what Jeyne had said. She felt a fluttering inside at the thought of Jon standing up for her to Robb. While Sansa didn’t necessarily want him taking sides – nor had she any right to ask Jon to do so – she liked that he had stuck up for her. 

It didn’t sound like a serious argument – in fact, were it not for the fact that they were in lockdown, Sansa doubted it would’ve been an issue ten minutes after their conversation never mind two days. Jeyne said as much. She lay back down herself, next to Sansa. 

“So, conversationally, between the two of us, exactly how long have you been desperate to jump Jon’s bones?” She spoke in such a casual tone that it took a moment for Sansa to register the words that had left Jeyne’s mouth. 

“Sorry, what?”

“Jon – how long has it been? I have to say, I only really noticed when we became confined to quarters.”

“What makes you think – “

Jeyne cut Sansa off with a look. “Seriously? You’re lucky most of them are either oblivious or apathetic.”

“Consciously, a few months. Since the end of last year. We started spending a lot more time together after he and Val split, and even before that we hung out far more than we did when we were younger. I would hate it if we were only able to see each other on video calls right now, but that does not mean it isn’t torture being around him constantly at the moment and having to hide it.”

Jeyne chuckled at that. “I won’t say anything to Robb. I wouldn’t – I like to think we’ve become friends over the years, Sansa. I wouldn’t betray your trust.”

“Thank you.”

“Thing is, if you told Jon……I don’t think he’d turn you down. He doesn’t look at you like you’re just a friend, Sansa.” 

-

_He doesn’t look at you like you’re just a friend._

“Sansa? Sansa? Sansa?”

_He doesn’t look at you like you’re just a friend._

“Sansa? Sansa? Sansa?” A hand waved in front of her face, pulling Sansa out of her thoughts. Jeyne’s words had occupied her mind for the last fifteen hours and she couldn’t quite decide to do about them. She’d itched all over last night when she and Jeyne went downstairs to see the tail end of the gaming tournament Bran and Rickon had won, overthinking every movement Jon made and every word he uttered far more than usual.

“What is it, Rickon?” she asked. The final semester would get underway in a few days – for all of them – and her mother had reminded Arya, Bran and Rickon that they’d all been given assignments to complete for the holidays. As such, her youngest brothers had now joined her in the family room to study.

“You’ve read _Above the Rest_ , haven’t you? You read it when you were at school?”

“I think most students do.” Patrek Mallister’s book on a young man overcoming adversity after a hostage situation was required reading in most Westerosi schools, both north and south of the Neck. “Is that what your lit assignment is on?”

“Yes. Did you enjoy it?”

“I – it was alright. A bit overboard on the eagle imagery, but if you ignore that then it is readable.”

“Eagle imagery.” Sansa looked up from the book on Skagosi rebellions she’d been trying to read rather than thinking about Jon, and saw Rickon writing something down in his notebook. “And what would you say were the main themes of the book?

Sansa narrowed her eyes. “No, Rickon. You’ll have to read it yourself and find out. I am _not_ doing your homework for you. I’ll read it over when you’re done, but I am not doing the work. You are.”

“But it goes on for three hundred pages, Sans”, he grumbled. “Do you still have the essay you wrote when you studied it? I can’t ask Bran or Arya – old Ms. Dustin will recognize if I just turn in a copy of their essay with my name on it, but she joined the school after you studied it. _Please_. You’re my favourite sister.”

“Nice try, but no.”

Rickon sighed heavily and made a loud production of getting himself settled back down in a chair in the corner. Sansa glanced over to where her other younger brother was diligently working away on some computer studies textbook and caught Bran’s eye. He smiled at her and shrugged, as if to say _Rickon, right?_

He didn’t quieten down, though, and Robb wasn’t down here to settle him. He and Jeyne were “studying” upstairs. 

Speaking of, an invitation drifted to the forefront of Sansa’s mind. _“If you ever find it too noisy downstairs, you could always study here.”_

Sansa bit her lip and considered her options. She could stay down here and continue to listen to Rickon huff and puff in the hope she’d change her mind. She could go up to her room – where there was a perfectly good desk and comfortable chair – and study there. The desk sat under her window and the light was good. She need only leave the room to top up her tea or fix a snack. Or…….she could take up Jon’s offer to study in the bedroom he was staying in. 

True, being in that room would only lead to thoughts of what else she and Jon could get up to in there. 

_He doesn’t look at you like you’re just a friend._

Jeyne’s words rang through her mind yet again like a mantra devised to torture her poor, fried, Jon Snow-addled brain. 

The loud page turning coming from Rickon’s corner decided it – she was going upstairs. Sansa gathered together her study things. Five minutes later she made her way up the staircase with a tray of tea, coffee and homemade cookies. 

She knocked on the door with her elbow, walking in when Jon answered. He smiled up at her when Sansa entered the room. 

“Study buddy?” Jon nodded. 

“I wouldn’t have offered if it bothered me, Sansa.” He looked at her tray. “You didn’t need to bring coffee and cookies, though I’m not complaining. These are good cookies.”

“Rickon was driving me to distraction.” That was partially true – but, then, Jon had been driving her to distraction before that. She’d obsessed over every little inflection of every word and every movement he made since Jeyne had dropped her _He doesn’t look at you like you’re just a friend_ bombshell. And when he wasn’t in the room, she replayed their most recent interaction in her mind. 

Lockdown was not helping her growing feelings for Jon and her growing feelings for Jon were not helping her during lockdown. 

“Of course.” Jon started to close over the books he had out. 

“What are you doing?”

“I thought you could use the desk.”

“I’m only reading. I can sit – “ Sansa looked around the room. _Shit_. The only real place to sit was the bed. The bed Jon was sleeping in. The bed where he lay each night – most likely only _partially_ naked, but still. The bed where Sansa was now imagining Jon naked, whether he slept that way or not, and her lying in it next to him…..

“I can sit on the bed”, Sansa said, hoping she was only imagining the high pitch of her tone. “Really. Just reading. You won’t even know I’m here.”

Sansa set her cup of tea on the window ledge and settled herself down at the end of the bed. Jon’s feet slept here. Nothing sexy or mindfully distracting about feet, she told herself. 

“What are you reading?” Jon asked. He turned round in his chair to face her, coffee in one hand and the cookies she’d helped her mother bake the day before in the other. 

“I read Balder’s _The Edge of the World_ yesterday. This is the book he wrote specifically on the Skagosi Rebellions.”

“I love how he spends most of _Edge_ trying to dismiss everything he’s found out in his research, even though it is abundantly clear that the evidence he’s uncovered is pretty much accurate.”

“Definitely. Have you studied Skagos much?” The class she was taking on the history of the island was being run for the first time, and so hadn’t been offered during Jon’s second year. At the start of each semester she always picked his brains for the best classes to take – and which to avoid.

“A little, though mostly in terms of how the Skagosi interacted with the mainland North rather than as their own entity”. Jon replied. “To be honest, I mainly read _Edge_ out of curiosity my first semester, when I took Intro to Northern History.”

“What have you been working on?”

“Some more stuff for my Night’s Watch class. I’ve a paper to write on the fortresses they used.” Jon pushed his glasses up and then rubbed his eyes. It was a habit he had when tired. 

“Make sure you don’t work too hard”, Sansa told him. “I know finals are a huge deal for you this year, but you won’t help yourself through over-work.”

“I know.” Sansa yawned. “Now who could do with taking it easy?!”

“I woke up early and couldn’t get back to sleep”, Sansa admitted. She did not _admit_ that it was thoughts of Jon that had kept her awake. Awake and _frustrated_. Sansa had been tempted at dawn to go online and order a bloody new vibrator, recklessness be damned, but in the end she hadn’t. Her fingers had settled her somewhat though they had not restored her sleep.

“Everything’s so strange at the moment.”

“It is.” _We’re stuck in the middle of a bloody pandemic that could last months, we’re all cramped into this house, and Jeyne says you don’t look at me like I’m just a friend._

Jon left his seat and moved over to the bed, coming to sit next to her. Sansa could feel her heart thump faster and louder, so loud she thought Jon was likely able to hear it. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled Sansa in close. She thought she could hear his breath hitch but wondered if she was imagining it.

“Are you okay? It’s okay if you’re not, you know.” Sansa nodded into Jon’s shoulder. She could smell him, the coffee he’d been drinking on his breath and the woodsy scent he always gave off. 

“I know. I’m doing okay, though. Mostly.” _I may be having a freak out with you this close to me. On the bed you’re sleeping in every night. The bed I want to do so much to you in. The bed I want_ you _to do so much to_ me _in._ “And you?”

“I’m doing okay. Mostly.” He parroted her words back to her and they made Sansa smile. She glanced up at Jon and realized she could count his eyelashes if she wanted to. He seemed to realize that at the same moment.

“Rickon!” Arya’s voice echoing through the house pulled Sansa out of this thing with Jon and she heard him chuckle under his breath. It occurred to her that he’d been hard at work when she came into the room and she’d essentially disrupted him as much as Rickon had disrupted her. 

“Sorry.”

“For what?” Jon seemed confused. She loved the furrow it created in his brow. It made him look grouchy in a horrifically attractive way. Sansa wanted to trace it with her fingers. 

“I said you wouldn’t even know that I’m here and you most definitely do.”

Jon coughed. His ears got a bit red. “A welcome interruption though. I wasn’t getting anywhere on this assignment. Why don’t we take a proper break? Go for a walk?”

“You aren’t going for one with Robb and Jeyne later?”

“I would rather go for one now.”

“Okay.” Sometimes if you weren’t getting anywhere, taking a break was often the best thing to do. Sansa recalled one of her professors telling her that. 

-

On Sunday, what should’ve been the last day of break, Rickon turned fifteen. Normally, he would go to his favourite arcade in town with his friends and play vintage games for hours, before returning home for a barbeque. 

After their gaming marathon – one in which Sansa did participate, partnering Jon – they went to the back, following the scent of meat being charred on the barbeque. Sansa thought the day might not look exactly like Rickon had envisaged, but hopefully they could give him something close to it. 

Her father was stood behind the barbeque, warming burgers and sausages and chicken pieces. Sansa could feel her mouth water at the thought of it. Lunch had been hours ago. She poured herself a glass of wine and went to sit on the deck steps.

Sansa had found herself falling into a routine over the last few days and it had been strange to interrupt it. In the mornings, she would read in Jon’s room – curled up on his bed and constantly forcing down thoughts about how he’d slept in said bed mere hours earlier – and they’d take a break around eleven to go for a walk. In the afternoons, she and Jon would swap around, and he’d read on the bed while she worked away at the desk. 

They didn’t have a repeat of what Sansa internally called their moment, but she did feel like maybe there was something shifting. And she remained haunted by Jeyne’s words.

_He doesn’t look at you like you’re just a friend._

‘Fryd had taken Jeyne’s words as a kick up Sansa’s ass to make a move on Jon, but Sansa had yet to do anything about them. She’d fallen asleep on Jon’s shoulder again as they watched a movie the night before and found once more that she quite liked it. 

Jon made a good cushion. 

“You’re getting better at the karting game”, Bran told her. Sansa smiled. 

“Thanks.” It was a lie, of course, but one kindly meant. All the skill in their team had come from Jon. “How’s the podcast coming along? Will we get a preview of the first episode?”

“Maybe. We’ve still to finish the document for it. We’re up at fifteen pages already. School starts back tomorrow, so I won’t have as much time for it.”

“You looking forward to home schooling?”

Bran snorted. “You mean, Rickon badgering me to do his work for him and trying to do my own at the same time? At least I won’t have to go to gym class or get up so early. No bus to ride, so I’ll get an extra half hour in bed.”

“That half hour makes all the difference. And you get to study in your pyjamas if you want. Not that I do, but ‘Fryd told me she’s been living in hers since lockdown started.”

Sansa had enjoyed a lengthy talk with her roommate after movie night. Not only had they dissected what was happening with Jon, but ‘Fryd had told her that Wylla, her younger sister, had been caught buying food online with their father’s credit card. Wynafryd had forwarded on the video her sister had sent and it had given Sansa a giggle or two, watching ‘Fryd’s father bluster away. 

Maybe she should have a pyjama day and test Jon’s reaction. Sansa had a set that was a vest top and a pair of small shorts. They were really for the summer, but it had been warm out recently. She _might_ be able to get away with it. 

Sansa wondered what Jon wore to bed normally. She envisioned him as a boxers and t-shirt man. 

She took a sip of her wine and glanced over at where he stood with Arya and Gendry, laughing at something her sister was saying. 

_He doesn’t look at you like you’re just a friend._

“Food’s ready!” her father called. 

Her father always presided over their family barbeques – not even Robb as the eldest was permitted to help out – and from the look of things, he’d outdone himself yet again. There was a large pile of sizzling sausages, seared beef burgers and crispy chicken. Sansa immediately helped herself to a burger bun and began fixing it. Thankfully, her mother had been able to get her favourite salsa sauce from the grocery store. 

She sat down on the bench at one of the picnic-style tables they had for summer barbeques, setting her wine and burger in front of her. The first bite had her moaning deeply. It had been too long since they’d cooked out like this – her last visit home had been a short weekend in February when she’d taken advantage of her schedule leaving her free on a Friday, and come up to Winterfell for a couple of nights. It had been far too cold then to do much of anything. 

“That is a crime against your burger, Jon Snow”, Sansa informed him when he sat down opposite her. “Mayo is for chicken burgers, not beef.”

“You’ve told me that before”, Jon reminded her. “Once or twice……every single time I’ve been over for one of these things.”

“Have I?” Sansa grinned, feigning innocence. She’d also told him the same thing every time he’d ordered a burger when they were out for lunch or dinner in White Harbour, though it was seldom Jon ordered that – usually just when they were dining on pub grub. 

Jon grinned. “It feels good to be eating outside like this. We could almost pretend that we’re in a restaurant with outdoor seating or something.”

“It does”, Sansa agreed. She took another bite of her burger, relishing it. “I hope Rickon enjoyed his makeshift birthday party.”

“I’m sure he has.” Sansa looked up from her food and stifled a giggle at the sliver of mayo that hadn’t made it into his mouth. It crossed her mind that she’d quite like to remove it with her tongue, and Sansa rubbed her legs together. “Um, you’ve got……” She gestured at Jon’s mouth and handed him a napkin. 

“Shit”, he mumbled. His neck turned a little pink and Sansa found his embarrassment very cute. “Thanks.” Though there was no mayo in his beard, he ran the napkin over it. Sansa wondered how the roughness of Jon’s beard would feel against her thighs, and rubbed them close together again. This thing with Jon was like having an itch she knew she couldn’t scratch.

“Sansa?” Jon asked, brow furrowed. 

“Fine”, she replied. Sansa took a large sip from her wine glass. “We should keep having these every couple of weeks. Give us something to look forward to.”

“We should”, Jon agreed. 

Sansa wondered how many more weeks of lockdown they’d need to go through. She wondered if it would take them into summer and sunbathing……..and Jon laying topless on the grass. He’d need to wear sunscreen. Sansa bit into her burger again, stifling a moan at the thought of lathering it on his bare chest.


	6. Six - Jon

“I’ve always wanted to visit Oldtown”, Sansa told him as they walked along one of the neighbouring streets, the misty rain falling around them. Over the last week they’d got into the habit of taking a break late morning and going for a walk to break up their studying. It was Thursday, day four of Arya, Bran and Rickon home-schooling and the noise echoing through the Stark house that morning had them taking their walk earlier than normal. 

“They have so many museums and galleries and theatres. It’s a cultural haven. Then there’s the restaurants and wine bars. A long weekend there would be bliss.”

“Rhae told me once that great-great-great uncle Aemon studied at the Citadel. I don’t really remember much about him. He died when I was quite young and I didn’t see much of that side of the family back then. Rhae said he used to tell her stories about this inn everyone went to in Oldtown when he studied there, _The Quill and Tankard_. Apparently they serve the strongest cider in the Reach."

“Are we just torturing ourselves?” Sansa asked. 

“Probably.” They had no idea when they’d be able to leave Winterfell again, never mind the North. “For all I tell her to come and visit whenever she wants and we complain about each other’s home climates, I’d love to take a trip to Dorne to see Rhae.”

Jon also wasn’t averse to joining Sansa on her imaginary trip to Oldtown. He wondered if Sansa would like Dorne. The fierce sunshine would be harsh on her freckled, alabaster skin, but sunscreen and the shade might mitigate that. Jon moved his thoughts on before his mind turned to Sansa in a bikini. 

“When was the first time you went to Dorne?” Sansa asked. “I feel I should know that, but I don’t really remember.”

Jon nodded. “Elia moved back to Dorne a few months after Rhaegar died. I would’ve been almost thirteen so you were ten going on eleven. I was so nervous. Dragonstone was the furthest I’d been and I didn’t know Elia’s family very well. Thank the Seven for Rhae. She wouldn’t let me near any of the super spicy food Oberyn served and she wouldn’t let her cousins tease me. Rhae told them that teasing Aegon would take up too much of their time.”

“Is it weird when you go and stay there? I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you and Elia.”

“We’ve worked on things over the years.” Jon could recall more than one trip on which he’d been sullen and difficult and Elia had allowed him the space he needed far more readily than Rhaegar had. “I suppose we think of each other as a sort of honorary aunt and nephew. She’s the reason Rhaegar had me to stay and she is one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

“She does sound pretty special.”

Speaking of the Targaryens, Jon recalled the ping on his phone that had woken him up before his alarm was due to go off. “I had a message from Aunt Dany this morning – a picture of herself walking on the beach in Meereen. They finally opened them. She said she’d never thought about how much she loved the feeling of sand getting in between her toes.”

“I’m sure by the end of this, it’s the little things we’ll be appreciating too.”

“It’s so eerie like this.” They could see people in their back yards and houses, and the odd person out walking their dog or taking the permitted daily hour-long exercise, but there were no cars passing by and they could not even hear the busy hum of distant traffic. “Like every day is a Sunday.”

“Hmm.” Sansa fell silent and contemplative. Jon wrapped an arm around her.

“You alright?” he murmured into her ear. Jon felt Sansa nod. He wondered if she was thinking of the news they’d received two nights ago, when Catelyn’s brother had called to confirm his father-in-law’s death. None of them seemed to have liked the man, but they _did_ care for Roslin and it made a difference, Jon felt, when it was someone you knew. It wasn’t nameless, faceless people being killed. 

It made it all the more real. 

“Thank you.” She nuzzled into the crook of his neck and Jon wanted nothing more than to hold her even tighter. 

There had been a subtle shift in things between them, ever since the day when she’d come to study in his room. Seeing her sitting on the bed where he slept – the bed where he dreamed of her every night…..at first all he could do was hold back the constant stream of images speeding through his mind of everything he wanted to do to her on that bed. 

They’d managed to get into a routine of splitting their days between the desk and the bed, using the former to write assignments and the latter for reading. When Jon did his reading in the afternoon, he wondered if he was imagining the warmth when he sat on the bed after lunch even though it’d been a good hour since Sansa had sat there. It was almost as if she had imprinted a part of herself on the duvet.

It still affected him, having Sansa in the room, but he managed it better now. And ultimately he’d rather have her there than not. If any of the other Starks had an opinion on the shift in study arrangements, none had said so to Jon. 

The change had not only been in their study arrangements. Sansa regularly fell asleep on his shoulder in the evenings when Robb or Arya inevitably got their way over what TV show to stream or movie to watch. They seemed to gravitate towards each other at mealtimes and Jon couldn’t recall when he’d last sat away from Sansa at dinner. Again, none of the Starks had remarked upon it – not to him, anyway – but Jon wondered if they noticed it.

“The Summer Isles”, Sansa said suddenly. “Miles and miles of sandy beaches and clear blue waters. Sunshine all day. A little hut near the beach where you could cook out every night.”

“Don’t”, Jon moaned. He could see it clear as day. Just as Sansa had described. Just the two of them. Sansa in a barely-there bikini by day and floaty sundress by night. They could fuck long and loud late into the evening. 

Jon knew there were some resorts there with beach huts so far apart it was as if you were alone on the island. He could see a vision of the two of them walking along the beach at sunset, then going back to their hut – where Jon could strip off every piece of clothing Sansa was wearing and spend the night mapping her body with his mouth. 

“We should be getting back.”

-

“It’s so good to see your face, sweetheart”, his mother told him. The picture jumped slightly, but he could see the broad grin on her face and the mess that her bedroom had become. “You’re variety!”

“That’s good to know.”

“Well, you are. There’s only three of us here and Flint, snarky goat that he is, is refusing to play cards with me – at least competitively, and now that he’s catalogued the treasures we’ve found all Marsh seems to do is count what’s in the cupboards as if the local store is suddenly going to stop delivering food to us.”

“Shine of lockdown starting to wear off, then?”

“Something like that. How are you managing in that big, loud house?”

“I promise not to tell Mr. and Mrs. Stark you called it that.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’d agree with me.”

“Perhaps.” Jon shrugged. “I’m getting work done. I’m into a good study routine. I, uh, I had an e-mail from WHU today. So, they’re starting to organize an alternative to exams. Looks like they’re going to give us more coursework so our final grade is based on more than seminar papers and contributions, and our term papers.”

It was strange to think he wouldn’t need to sit another exam any time soon. 

“How do you feel about that?”

“Okay, I guess. I figured it was coming.” More than anything, it had served as a reminder to Jon that he was likely to be a guest of the Starks for some time to come. Weeks and weeks. Months plural. More time to have more moments with Sansa like the one they’d had that first day she had come upstairs to study with him. 

Jon had fallen into the depths of her bright blue eyes to the point where he could count her lashes. Only, someone had shouted at Rickon and it had broken the spell they’d been under. There had been more of those moments since then. Moments where it felt like all Jon needed to do was move forward slightly, or tilt his head, and he’d be kissing Sansa. _FINALLY_ kissing Sansa. 

For some reason, fate seemed to stop them right when Jon was working up the nerve to maybe do something about his feelings for her. Dinner was ready, or Grandpa Hoster was on the phone and wanted to speak to Sansa, or someone needed to borrow something, or Bran was looking for one of them to read over his history assignment.

Even Ned had come up the room once, looking for Jon to help him and Robb and Gendry with something out back. The garden area around the Stark property hadn’t been as neat and tidy in years, with all the extra time Ned had suddenly found for yard work. He and Gendry were out there most days, with the latter having taken it upon himself to paint the fencing.

He hoped that at some point, finally, he’d be able to kiss Sansa before someone interrupted them. It was at times like that, Jon thought of the busyness and loudness of the Stark house with something other than affection.

“Jon? Can you hear me? Jon?”

“Yeah, ma. I can hear you.”

“Any Netflix recommendations? I’m sorry, I don’t have much in the way of news, because I’m not doing anything. Tonight is my turn to choose again and I can’t decide what I want to watch.”

“They’ve got a documentary series on the Skagosi rebellions. Sansa and I binged it over a couple of evenings – she’s taking a Skagosi class this semester. Arya even watched an episode with us – it’s pretty grim and bloodthirsty.”

“Good. That’ll shake us up a bit. Most of my things are in storage, I only brought a few books, and I can only really leave the cabin for an hour a day. I need something to _do_ , Jon.”

“Online shopping exists.”

“Yeah, it might come to that. Are you getting out for your daily walk?”

“We usually go late morning, take a break from studying.” He thought about their walk in the rain that morning and smiled. Sansa had somehow got him to sing – well, hum, really – _Singin’ in the Rain_ with her. Then they’d made up new words for the tune. Sansa had done that more than him, but Jon had suggested a few things.

 _Shit_. Shitting _fuck_. Jon realized as he recalled that particular memory that this was the sort of thing someone did when they were falling in love. 

_Fuck_. He was falling in love with Sansa Stark. He’d known that he loved her as a friend. He’d known that he was becoming more and more attracted to her and that it was getting harder and harder not to tell her, not to kiss her whenever she entered his periphery. 

The falling in love part, though…….that was new. 

“Must’ve been a good walk today, judging by that stupid smile on your face.”

“Yeah, it was. It was raining.”

“The small things, right?” Jon wished that she’d come back to Winterfell when it first looked like a lockdown might be a possibility. She could’ve rented a room somewhere – or maybe the Starks could’ve put her up in this room. Jon wouldn’t have minded the sofa. His first preference would be Sansa’s bed, but he’d have taken the sofa.

“How bad is it up there, really?”

“I’ll survive. Remember that summer dig three years ago in the Skirling Pass? No internet, access to a satellite phone once a week, washing in the river instead of a shower, sleeping and working in tents that would not have looked out of place at a music festival…..I got through that and I’ll get through this. Once it’s all over, I’ll come visit you in White Harbour. We can go to that fancy place down by the harbour you were raving about.”

“ _Seal Rock?_ ” He had only ever been there the once, when he took Sansa for lunch on her birthday.

“Yeah, you must like it a lot to tell me about it in that much detail.”

“Of course.”

-

“How’s your mother?” Sansa asked during dinner. 

Jon swallowed his mouthful of spaghetti and chuckled. “Cabin fever is starting to get to her a bit. She’s a very active person and being stuck inside for twenty three hours a day – which she reminded me a couple of days ago is the same as high security prisoners – I’m not sure how patient she’ll be soon.”

“I know the dig is on hiatus, but surely there is other work they can continue with in the meantime?” Ned asked. 

“They’ve catalogued everything and updated all their files on the findings they’ve made. Until the dig is complete, they can’t really do more. They could make several hypotheses regarding the people who lived in the area thousands of years ago, and then first day back they discover something else that completely blows half of their theories out of the water. I gave her my logins for the WHU library and audible, so at least she can at least read something different online or listen to an audio book. Most of her stuff is in storage.”

It made him wonder again if he should’ve gone up there or pushed her to return to Winterfell. There was no changing it now, though. They were where they were – and would remain in situ for the foreseeable future. 

“Channel nine’s showing highlights from earlier on in the football season in a bit. Looks like Winterfell Wolves have a couple of matches on their schedule”, Arya commented, setting down her fork with one hand and scrolling through something on her phone with the other. 

“How do you inhale your food like that?” Sansa asked, speaking over Catelyn’s reminder that phones were frowned upon at the table. 

“Just do”, Arya shrugged. “So, football highlights? Robb, Rickon, you’ll be up for watching it with me and Gendry, right?”

“I could watch some football”, Rickon responded through a mouthful of spaghetti. Jon stifled a laugh at the look of revulsion it elicited from Bran next to him. When Robb added his agreement, Jon could see which way the evening’s viewing was going. 

It wouldn’t be so bad. Jon didn’t mind football and Sansa might curl up next to him with a book, her perfume filling his nose and her side leaning into his. He liked that. He liked it when she used him as a pillow and fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. She’d been doing that more and more since the lockdown started and Jon had grown used to it. He had stopped panicking and started running his fingers though her hair.

Arya always looked at him strangely when he did that, as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle. 

“I brought the new _Lysono Maar_ spy thriller back with me from White Harbour. I was hoping to start it tonight”, Sansa shrugged. 

“Yeah, football sounds good”, Jon put in. Yes, it sounded _very_ good. He knew the Maar books – about a group of spies known as the _Golden Company_ , having taken their name from the historical sellsword company. They were well written and among Sansa’s favourites. Jon had noted a few of them on the bookshelves in the apartment she shared with Wynafryd when he’d been over visiting.

“I don’t think I’ve read the latest one”, Catelyn commented. “What’s it about, Sansa?”

“It’s called _The Bitter Steel_ , and it is apparently about a man trying to take back lands he believed his family entitled to. That’s what the blurb says anyway.”

“Let me know if it’s any good. I might read it once you’re done.”

There wasn’t much chatter for the remainder of the meal and they were able to get everything cleared away quickly before the football show started. Jon had played the sport when younger mainly at his mother’s encouragement and then through his friendship with Robb, though he’d never been as enthusiastic about it as Robb and Arya. While a trailer for _Notorious Westerosi Prison Breaks_ played out on screen, Sansa came into the family room, book in hand, and settled in next to Jon.

He tuned out Arya and Rickon’s attempts to get everyone else to watch the previewed show when it aired the following week, and instead concentrated on Sansa tucking her legs underneath herself and untying her hair the same way she always did. She shook it all out and Jon’s fingers itched to reach out and touch her soft locks.

“Finally!” Rickon cheered as the opening titles played.

The first game was _Krakens v Falcons_ and the second a _Stags v Griffins_ derby, but Jon wasn’t paying too much attention to what he was seeing. He was more interested in the soft hums and stifled yawns coming from Sansa, and the flowery scent of her perfume and fruity aromas that must’ve come from her shampoo. The commentary on the TV and the hammering of the rain outside as it grew heavier and heavier faded into the background. 

It only took until the fourth match, _Wolves v Giants_ – _fucking finally_ , as Arya muttered – for Sansa to lay her head on his shoulder. Jon shuffled around in his seat a little, to make it more comfortable for her. Sansa was still reading her book but he could see her eyes begin to droop slightly.

Looking around the room, at Arya sitting on Gendry’s lap and Jeyne sitting with her back to Robb, wrapping his arm around her, and then back to Sansa growing closer and closer to sleeping on his shoulder, it occurred to Jon that a stranger walking into the room might think they’d come across three couples rather than two.

Jon thought back to the video call he’d received from his mother that afternoon and the realization he’d had part-way through that he was falling in love with Sansa. Not just having more-than-friendly feelings for her, but properly actually falling in love with her. Sansa was smart and witty and creative and…..in so many ways just the perfect person for him. 

He loved the excited tone in her voice when she talked about her classes or told a story about a night out with Wynafryd Manderly or implored him to read a book or binge a TV series she’d come across. He loved the indignation in her voice when she told him how much she disagreed with an argument another student had made in a seminar or that her favourite bakery had run out of lemon cakes before she arrived. 

A soft little huffing sound, one Jon had come to know well of late, cut through his thoughts and he looked down to see Sansa’s eyes had shut. Smiling, he took _The Bitter Steel_ from Sansa’ hand and marked the page she’d reached before setting it down on the table next to him. Jon took a quick drink from the water bottle he’d brought through after dinner and looked up at the screen. Hal Mollen missed a last minute chance to grab a win for the _Wolves_. 

They went through highlights from another four matches before the _Wolves_ were on again – this time against the _Griffins_. While Arya poked fun at the _Griffins_ player nicknamed _Red Ronnet_ , Jon felt Sansa’s head fall from his shoulder to his chest. Jon was only half-watching the football by this point, distracted by both thoughts of Sansa and the woman herself. 

Jon wrapped an arm around Sansa’s shoulder and pulled her in closer. His fingers flirted with the loose waves in her hair and Jon inhaled her berry shampoo once more. All of a sudden, when a group of players were talking to the presenter via video link, Jon became aware of Arya’s gaze. Her eyes were narrowed at the sight of him and Sansa and he could well understand why. 

Jon wondered what line he had to cross for Arya – normally very blunt – to broach the subject of Sansa with him. 

-

Jon found out that he had crossed the invisible line later that evening when he went to get a quick drink from the fridge before bed. He had poured out half a glass of fresh orange juice when he heard her voice, appearing as if from nowhere. 

“So how long have you been in love with my sister?”

Jon returned the juice to the fridge, took a quick gulp, and then turned round to face Arya. She’d left the kitchen light off as he had, and the only noise that could be heard was vague steps and voices in the distance as everyone readied themselves for bed. 

“You didn’t come home for Christmas. The last time I saw you in person was when you all came home for my eighteenth, right after you and Val split. When since then did you fall in love with Sansa?”

Jon saw no reason to lie to her – not that he’d be successful if he tried. Arya had a bullshit-o-meter that had never failed to work. “Sansa and I…….we spend a lot of time together in White Harbour. It’s been a few months since I wanted her to be more than my friend. As for the other thing, I only figured out recently how deep it went for me”, Jon admitted. “How long did it take you to figure me out?”

“Not long. You – you look at Sansa like Robb looks at Jeyne.” She was leaning against the doorframe and the look on her face was neutral, but Jon could hear the feeling in Arya’s voice. “Why haven’t you done anything about it? The way she looks at you is just as bad.”

“Is it?” Arya snorted. “What?”

“Jon, she falls asleep on your shoulder practically every night. You spend most of your days together and I don’t remember the last time she looked this happy. When this is all over, you should do something about it.”

“When this is all over?”

“Yeah. I don’t want to see the two of you being all gross with each other. Robb and Jeyne are bad enough.” Jon did not pass comment on the fact that a mere half hour earlier, Arya had been comfortably settled on Gendry’s lap. Instead, he finished his orange juice and contemplated what Arya had said about her sister. 

_The way she looks at you is just as bad._

_The way she looks at you is just as bad._

_The way she looks at you is just as bad._

Arya’s words followed Jon up the stairs towards the bedroom he was staying in. He reached the top and turned the corner, where he saw Sansa standing outside the bathroom door. Her hair was braided for the night and she wore a comfy looking pair of pyjama pants and a band t-shirt he thought might once have belonged to Robb. 

_The way she looks at you is just as bad._

Jon gulped and tried to tune out Arya’s voice in his head. 

“Jeyne’s in the shower. I wanted to make sure I got into the bathroom next”, she explained, lifting up her wash bag. 

“I was just downstairs getting a drink.” After his conversation with Arya, Jon felt stunned and didn’t quite know what to say. Was Arya right? Did Sansa look back at him the way he looked at her? She was fidgeting with the end of her braid and Jon wanted to tuck some tendrils that had escaped and tuck them behind her ear. He wanted to cup her cheek, swipe his thumb across it and press his lips to hers. 

Jon looked into those deep blue eyes of Sansa’s and started to feel himself drowning in them again. They looked back at him, unblinking.

“Sansa, I – “

“Sans! There you are.” Jon jumped at the sound of Robb’s voice. 

“Robb”, Sansa muttered. He hoped he’d seen the disappointment he glimpsed in Sansa’s eyes at her brother’s interruption. “Jeyne should be finished soon and then I really wanted to get to bed.”

“I know. I know. She won’t be long. I just need you for five minutes. Can I borrow you? Please?”

“I’ll keep your place in the queue for the bathroom”, Jon promised her. Sansa followed Robb down the corridor, turning to look back at him before entering the room. One of these times, one of their _moments_ would end the way he wanted it to, right? Jon repeated Arya’s words silently as a prayer of sorts. 

_The way she looks at you is just as bad._


	7. Seven - Sansa

Sansa followed Robb down the corridor, turning to look back at Jon before entering the room. His eyes had followed her all the way down to Robb’s bedroom. She was so certain that Jon might actually have been about to kiss her. About to turn one of their little moments into something real. That there had been so many of them had to show there was, at the very least, a _possibility_ Jon felt the same way she did. Right?

The way he’d said her name then, Sansa was so sure she hadn’t imagined the want in his voice. 

“Sansa?”

She’d thoroughly enjoyed her evening snuggled into Jon’s chest. When she woke, she could feel him running his fingers through her hair. It was so soothing that Sansa had kept her eyes tightly shut and pretended she was still asleep. 

“Sansa?”

Sansa always felt safe and warm in Jon’s arms…..but she also felt a desire to allow her hands to roam properly, reach underneath his shirt to his skin and –

“Sansa?! Please, we don’t have long.” Robb cut into her thoughts and Sansa wondered how many times he’d said her name. This was happening more and more, this distraction. 

“Sorry. What is it you need me to help you with?”

Robb turned around and went into his sock drawer. Sansa turned up her nose immediately before trying to school her features into something neutral. Surely Robb’s sock drawer wasn’t as bad as it had been when he was a teenager? He pulled out a pair of old _Wolves_ socks and Sansa saw there was a small cubic box hidden inside. 

“Oh, _Robb_.” Sansa melted the moment she realized what it was. 

“Okay, okay, calm down. Jeez.” He rolled his eyes at her the same way Arya would’ve. “I was going to wait until graduation, but it looks like we’re not actually going to get one. Not a proper one, anyways. I thought tomorrow would work. After dinner. In the garden.”

“I am so, so happy for you and Jeyne. Truly. You seem to have thought it out, though. I’m not sure what you need me for. You don’t want me to write the proposal, do you? Because that should come from you. Even if it’s awful.”

“Uh, no. I don’t need you to write it, Sans. I just thought – since you’re always so good with the tree at Christmas, you might be able to set up some fairy lights at the grotto at the bottom of the back yard. And, when I suggest going out back after dinner tomorrow, if you could make sure you give us a bit of time alone first?”

“I can do that.” Sansa’s heart was in her mouth and she could feel tears threatening to form in her eyes. “My big brother’s getting _married_.” Sansa wrapped her arms around Robb. He was almost forgiven for interrupting her and Jon. There would be more moments between her and Jon. And one of them would most _definitely_ end in a kiss. Yes.

“Can I see it?”

“Here.” Robb opened the box to reveal a white gold band with an aquamarine stone to match her birth month. Sansa wasn’t sure if that was a Westerlands tradition or if Robb had simply liked the ring. “I bought it in White Harbour. There was a sale on just after Valentine’s and I sort of wandered in. I knew I was going to ask Jeyne to marry me when we graduated. I’ve known that for ages.”

“It’s beautiful. It really is. Truly, Robb. She’ll love it.” Sansa felt no need to reassure him about Jeyne’s response. She was as sure as he was that she’d accept.

“I hope so.”

Sansa promised to do as Robb had asked – and to stop by the grocery store on her morning walk with Jon to pick up a few things for a small celebration after. “Can I tell him? He’s going to wonder why I’m buying so much and it isn’t like I can just get him to wait outside, he’ll need to help me carry it all. There’s ten of us. A couple of bottles of sparkling wine and some fancy chips won’t go very far.”

“Yeah, I should’ve thought of that. Jon knows I bought the ring. He’s the only one who knows, apart from you. But don’t tell anyone else. Not until I’ve gone outside with Jeyne.” Sansa promised. “You best go back to queuing for the bathroom. Jeyne should be finished soon.”

“I will.” She beamed at Robb and then pulled him into another hug. “I really am happy for you both.”

“I know.”

Sansa slipped out of Robb’s room and saw Jon was still where she’d left him, waiting in line. Arya was behind him and she could hear them talking about the delayed release of some superhero movie or other. 

“Thanks for saving my spot”, she told Jon. 

“It wasn’t a problem.” He glanced between her and Arya. “I should – I should get to bed. Yes. Sleep. Sleep is good. You know, you don’t both need to queue. There’s the other bathroom.”

“That’s the one Rickon uses”, Arya reminded Jon, a disgusted look on her face. “I’m not using a bathroom that smells like teenage boy.”

Jon held up his hands and walked away. Sansa watched as he turned back and glanced in her direction at the bedroom door. She bit her lip and smiled. They’d have another moment soon. They were coming closer and closer together now. One of these times, she’d kiss him or he’d kiss her. And not long after, the frustration that had been building up inside her for far too long would be released.

“You seem chirpy. Good nap?”

“Yes. Yes, very good. Quite tiring, doing nothing, isn’t it?” She and Arya were friendlier than they’d been as tweens and young teenagers, but her sister had always seen Jon as another big brother and Sansa wondered if confiding in Arya would end in laughter or teasing or revulsion – or some combination of all three.

-

Sansa ran into a small problem the following morning when Jeyne suggested they all go out for a walk at the same time rather than separately. Robb had a slightly panicked look on his face and seemed to be struck dumb when looking for an explanation for why this was a bad idea. Certainly her mother – who oversaw the home schooling (more of Rickon than anyone else) of her siblings – had beamed as soon as the idea was mentioned, no doubt at the increasingly rare prospect of an empty house.

“But I wanted to talk to Jon about my Skagosi paper”, said Sansa, all eyes on her. “It’s due at the end of next week and I’m having real problems with it. I thought our walk – away from all my books and notes – might be the best time to talk through my ideas.”

She hoped that Jon wouldn’t say anything against this, as she’d told him the day before how well her assignment was going and promised to show him a first draft soon. Thankfully, he kept quiet. Sansa hoped that was a sign he enjoyed their time together as much as she did. She gave Jeyne a pleading look she hoped displayed concern about her studies to everyone else and a sign to her brother’s future wife that she wanted time alone with the man she was interested in. Sansa moved closer to Jon in the hope that would back up her silent request.

“Of course. I – I know how important that Skagosi class it to you”, smiled Jeyne, seeming to catch on. 

“Very, very important”, Robb agreed. “Especially with you considering the topic for your dissertation. Yes. The rest of us can go for a walk by ourselves. In fact, why don’t we go cycling? Gendry can borrow dad’s bike and I’m sure Sansa won’t mind lending hers to Jeyne. There’s that cycle path on the edge of the Wolfswood – it’s still open.”

_Still open and in the opposite direction of the grocery store Sansa would be heading for with Jon._

Sansa smiled at Jon. “I’ve just got to grab a couple of things and then we can head out?” She ran up to her room, put on the zip-up _DC Comics_ hoodie she’d borrowed from Robb at the end of a night out in White Harbour and never returned, and slipped a couple of sturdy recyclable bags into her shoulder bag. 

“Ready”, she announced. Robb shot her a grateful look and started shepherding everyone towards the outside store where their bikes were currently being kept while the garage was acting as a quarantine area.

When they were out of sight and hearing of the house, Sansa apologized for the big fat lie she’d told. 

“I know your paper’s fine. I saw your essay plan and you know the material by heart. I figured you had a reason for not wanting to go for a walk with everyone else. Jon looked at her expectantly and Sansa wanted to say that her words had been motivated by a desire to spend as much time alone with him as possible and she’d really like it if they could move from being friends to _more, more, more_. But, she was a dutiful sister.

Sansa spun round on her toes and faced Jon. “I need your help with planning for a secret party. A _very_ secret party, but I’m told that I can let you in on the secret.”

“Oh?” Something seemed to click in his mind. “Does this have anything to do with what Robb wanted last night? Is he proposing earlier than intended?”

“He is. You and I are tasked with stopping at the grocery store for supplies for a mini-engagement party. Liquor and snacks. Having the others with us would lead to too many questions.”

“I understand.” Jon was quiet for the remainder of the walk to the store, engrossed in his own thoughts. Sansa hoped that she hadn’t said the wrong thing and kept conversation light. As they joined the queue to get into the store, it hit her that perhaps Jon thought she hadn’t wanted time alone with him – that this was her trying to subtly tell him that their little _moments_ meant nothing to her.

“Even with having to stop here, I was relieved when Robb suggested cycling. I like going for our daily walk, just the two of us.” It was bolder than anything she’d said to him since her feelings for Jon had started moving from friendship to something more, but Sansa wanted to be clear. She did not want Jon thinking their time together meant nothing.

“Me too”, Jon nodded. Sansa shivered, as if feeling cold, and Jon wrapped an arm around her shoulder, bringing her in closer for warmth.

-

Sansa felt nervous all the way through dinner, her right leg bouncing next to Jon’s. They’d managed to sneak their shopping up to the bedroom Jon was staying in (Sansa reasoning her mother would be firstly less likely to enter the room unannounced and secondly less likely to pass comment on the amount of alcohol if it seemed to be Jon’s) and to slip out back not long before dinner to set up the fairy lights that normally adorned the Stark family Christmas tree around the grotto at the end of the back yard. The yard curved away from sight of the kitchen and so Jeyne wouldn’t see it immediately when she and Robb went outside. 

The pasta bake her mother had made for them all was delicious, but Sansa couldn’t recall much of the meal as her mind raced through the forthcoming evening. After the meringue her mother had made, Robb would suggest the head out back since it had been such a nice day, Sansa and Jon would keep her siblings and Gendry inside, and give Robb a few minutes to pop the question. Sansa hoped Arya and Rickon wouldn’t cause too much of a fuss. Of all five of them, they could be the most obstructive. 

“How is your paper coming along, Sansa?” her mother asked. 

Sansa swallowed the last of her meringue. “Better, thanks. Jon and I talked it over on our walk and I’ve managed to have a bit of a breakthrough.”

“Writers block when you’ve got a deadline like that can be a nightmare”, said Jon. “And you knew everything. Like always.” Jon smiled at her and Sansa willed herself not to blush under his praise and gaze. She didn’t usually get like that when Jon said such things, but with where the two of them were at the moment it seemed almost inevitable. 

“Robb? Jeyne? You’re managing to get through the coursework remotely like Sansa and Jon?” Robb nodded in response to their father. He’d been quiet through dinner and Sansa supposed it was stage fright in a sense. Robb hadn’t told her what he intended to say to Jeyne, exactly, but Sansa hoped it was something worth remembering for the rest of their lives. 

“The online resources WHU set up have been amazing”, Jeyne added. “The study guides especially.”

“You can all go on about how amazing WHU is as much as you like”, said Arya. “I’m staying right here and going to Winterfell U.”

Arya seemed pretty determined. She wondered if this had been a topic of conversation on their cycle earlier. Sansa seemed surprised someone would bring it up – there was no way Arya was moving away from Gendry. Even if she’d been willing to, WU had fantastic sports clubs (Arya was a talented footballer and fencer) and their Psych courses were highly rated.

Gendry looked a little uncomfortable, as if he was waiting to be accused of holding Arya back. He was taking night classes in engineering at the local college. “WHU’s top Psych lecturer is leaving at the end of semester. ‘Fryd told me. She only went to WHU because she loves the city; she told me once that if her choice had been based on the course then she would’ve chosen Winterfell U.”

“Didn’t you say the department at WHU wasn’t as organized as ours?” Jon added. Sansa nodded. She nudged Jon lightly in thanks.

“Well, I think that’s everyone finished”, her mother broke in. “Rickon, Arya, could you gather in everyone’s plates and take them over? Have you all decided on a movie for tonight?”

“I thought we might go outside”, said Robb. He handed his empty plate to Rickon and tapped his fingers on the table. “Might as well take advantage of it staying light for longer. It was warm out earlier when we went cycling.”

“Good idea”, Sansa put in. “We’ve been spending too much time inside.”

Once she’d given her own plate to Rickon, Robb took Jeyne’s hand and led her towards the door. Bran went to follow them, but Sansa tapped his shoulder. “Jon needs to speak to you about something, Bran.”

“I do?”

“ _Yes_ , you do.”

“Of course. Yeah. I was going to say…….with the podcast…….I could ask my mother if she’s interested in being interviewed sometime. Some of the digs she’s been on have found what they believe to be lost cities once inhabited by Children of the Forest.”

Sansa was impressed at his ability to think on his feet. Luckily her mother had asked Arya and Rickon to help her with clear up, and Gendry wouldn’t head outside until Arya had finished up. She looked out the back window and saw Robb and Jeyne move out of sight. Sansa squealed internally – she had been counting down to this all day! She opened the back door and took in the fresh Northern air. She wasn’t used to spending this much time indoors.

It took a few minutes for a loud squeal to ring through the stillness and peace of the night. With everyone in lockdown, nature was of late the most common sound to be heard from outside the Stark’s back yard. 

“What was that?” Although her mother seemed concerned, Sansa smiled widely. 

“Come on, we can go out now!” She ran the length of the back yard and round to the grotto. “Well?”

A beaming, sobbing Jeyne came over and hugged Sansa tightly. She whispered her congratulations in Jeyne’s ear and told her that both she and Arya couldn’t wait to have her as their new sister. 

“Thank you for the lights”, Jeyne told Sansa as she wiped the tears from her eyes. “Robb said you did that.”

“It was just some lights.”

“Special lights.”

“What’s going on?” Both of her parents were looking at the two of them with concern – taking in the tear tracks on Jeyne’s cheeks. Robb stepped forward and took Jeyne in his arms.

“We’re getting married!” he announced. 

Sansa stepped back and allowed everyone else to hug the happy couple. Once Jon had done so, he came over and whispered in her ear, sending shivers up Sansa’s spine. “We should go and get the party stuff.”

“Of course.”

-

The fairy lights Robb had asked her to put up proved to be a useful accessory as daylight turned to dusk. They lit up the yard beautifully and bathed them all in hues of blue and red and green and yellow. In spite of her mother’s feast at dinner, they’d all guzzled away at the snacks she and Jon had picked out at the grocery store. There were still shortages, but they’d managed to cobble together enough nibbles that nobody missed out. 

It was approaching nine thirty when the visibility was poor enough for her father to suggest they move the party indoors. Sansa could tell how happy he was at Robb and Jeyne’s news. How happy everyone was. 

Either someone (Sansa suspected Arya, but couldn’t prove it) had been slipping Rickon a couple of drinks, or he’d been sneaking them himself (entirely possible, she reasoned internally) and so it was around eleven when everyone separated for the night to head to bed. 

Carrying the empty glasses through to the kitchen and putting out the recycling with her mother murmuring away about how happy she is for Robb and Jeyne, all Sansa could think about was _Jon_. How his eyes kept finding hers when they were outside. How he went and grabbed a blanket for her when she started to shiver a little. How they were curled up next to each other on the sofa after they moved inside. They had gravitated towards one another just as much as Robb and Jeyne had done.

She knew both Arya and Jeyne had been giving them funny looks and wondered why her sister hadn’t said anything to her yet.

“You go upstairs sweetheart, and get ready for bed”, her mother encouraged. “There’s just a couple of things I want to get done before morning and I’ll manage them myself.”

Sansa walked up the stairs with a wide, unrestrained grin on her face, at the memory of the look on Jon’s face as he’d said _goodnight_. Perhaps it was the sparkling wine he’d had. Perhaps it wasn’t. She went to the bathroom and then stood outside his door, on the way to her own room. 

She wanted to knock on his door. She wanted to press her lips to his. She wanted to act out each and every one of the fantasies she’d been having when they studied in that room.

Sansa leaned back and forwards on her heels, trying to find the courage to knock on Jon’s door. 

“Hi.”

She almost jumped when Jon opened the door to find her standing there. 

“Hi”, she replied. Sansa tightened her grip on the washbag in her hand. Jon smiled at her. 

“Um, you’ve got….”

Mortified, Sansa reached up to the left side of her face to remove the toothpaste that was likely still there. She must’ve been too caught up in thoughts of Jon and their closeness throughout the evening to properly check. 

“No, it’s – “

Sansa began to hear steps coming closer. Someone – her mother, she remembered – was coming up the stairs. And then a door opened down the corridor and Arya’s voice could be heard. 

“Come in.” Jon took her hand and Sansa understood it to be an invitation. She jumped inside before her mother or Arya could see her hovering around Jon’s door and closed it behind her. Sansa stood with her back against the door, looking Jon in the eye while her mother and Arya each passed by. 

The air was heavy with want and Jon’s eyes were growing a darker, steelier grey. Sansa wondered if he could hear how loudly her heart was thumping, thudding, thrumming inside of her. She was aware of the pyjama set she was wearing and how it was clear from the top that she wasn’t wearing a bra. The two of them simply stood there looking at each other as they waited for silence outside. 

“It was on this side”, Jon told her quietly. His hand had reached up and cupped her right cheek. He swiped a thumb over it and though her breath simply hitched, Sansa wanted to scream at him to please just kiss her already. _Kiss_ and _suck_ and _touch_ and _feel_ and _push her over the edge_. 

“Thank you”, she said instead, feeling an ache between her legs she was increasingly desperate for Jon to ease. 

Jon closed his eyes for a moment. “I’m going to kiss you now”, he told her once they were open. Sansa nodded. 

“Good. Yes. Gods, _please_.”

No matter how many time Sansa had run through this moment in her mind, nothing could compare to how she felt when Jon pressed his lips to hers. She felt a tingle from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. She felt the gentle caress on one cheek and then the other, and then when his tongue parted her lips and entered her mouth, Sansa felt it deep in her belly and then between her legs. 

Her washbag slipped out of her hands but Sansa could barely hear it fall to the floor. She grabbed at his t-shirt and pulled Jon in closer, wanting to feel every inch of him, pressed against her. He moaned into her mouth and then nipped at her bottom lip. 

“Fuck”, Sansa murmured when Jon pulled back, gasping for air. His eyes were so dark they were almost black. “I want you.” He’d kissed her first and it had given Sansa the final piece of confidence she needed to say this; to know for sure that she wouldn’t be rejected. 

“If you knew how much I wanted you”, Jon responded. He leaned forward and kissed her lips briefly. “I want to kiss you here.” He kissed her jaw. “And here.” He moved down and kissed her neck and then her collarbone. “And here and here.”

In for a copper in for a dragon. Sansa pulled her pyjama top over her head and stood in front of him, naked from the waist up. She nodded, and his mouth was on her breasts, his tongue teasing at one nipple and then the other while the tips of his fingers ghosted up and down her sides. He kissed her breasts and marked them with his tongue. 

But it wasn’t enough. It did nothing to ease the tightening Sansa felt in her belly and the need she felt between her legs. She wrapped her arms around Jon’s neck and her legs around his waist. Jon groaned, sucking at her shoulder. He carried Sansa over to the bed and laid her down before kissing her over and over and over again. His mouth was on her neck, her shoulder, her stomach, the valley between her breasts. 

It was everything she wanted and yet not nearly enough. 

Sansa redirected Jon’s mouth to hers and pulled him closer still, wrapping her legs around him again. “Need you inside me”, she told him, breathless, between kisses. “ _Now_.”

Jon pulled back and ran a hand through his hair. “Shit, Sansa. I don’t have a condom with me. I didn’t bring any from White Harbour.”

“I’m on birth control and I trust you”, she told him. Sansa reached up and ran her fingers through Jon’s curls. “I trust you and this isn’t a one-time thing for me.”

“It isn’t for me either. I – I’ve wanted this for _months_ , Sansa. Wanted _you_ for months.” And then his mouth was on her again and Sansa’s protest he was wearing too many clothes was muffled. 


	8. Eight - Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has read, bookmarked and left both kudos and comments - this final chapter is for all of you! I hope you stay safe and healthy! :)

As he woke on Saturday morning, Jon became very aware very quickly that he was not alone in his bed. His legs were entwined with another person’s – and said other person was nuzzling his neck. Jon’s tired mind went into overdrive as he recalled the night before and Sansa…. _Sansa_ ….. _Sansa_. He opened his eyes and found hers. 

“It wasn’t just a dream, then?” he murmured. Jon recalled his mouth on Sansa, being inside her, cataloguing what brought soft moans of pleasure from her. They’d been on the precipice of this for days, had countless moments that were interrupted, and now they’d finally jumped off the edge of the cliff together.

He’d told Sansa he had feelings for her, but not that he was falling in love with her. Not yet. He didn’t want to put too much pressure on her to say the same thing so soon. Although Jon had wanted to be more than Sansa’s friend for months it had been mere hours since he’d kissed her for the first time. 

“It was pretty real”, Sansa whispered in response. Jon kissed the top of her head and held Sansa in closer. He could feel her breasts against his side and knew he’d be hard soon. He brought a hand round to Sansa’s back and allowed his fingers to trace her spine. 

“This is a pretty good way to wake up”, he told her.

“Hmmm.” Sansa shifted slightly and Jon groaned. “Like that, do you?”

“You’re a menace. A smart, witty, beautiful menace, but a menace nonetheless. Good thing for you I happen to quite like menaces.” He tilted Sansa’s face upwards, tucking a finger underneath her chin and brought her mouth to his. In seconds Sansa was straddling him and Jon had gone from half-hard to hard. Seeking out her tongue, Jon knew he’d never ever get tired of this. 

He was rapidly learning what type of moan Sansa let out when he kissed her, how she liked him to cup her breasts, the type of moan she let out when his head was between her legs. He was cataloguing them all and committing them to memory. 

Moving further down the bed and Sansa, Jon put his mouth on her neck, on her collarbone, on her breasts. He flicked her nipples with his tongue and found a new moan he enjoyed the sound of. He moved down further, kissing her stomach and nipping at her hip, Sansa writhing and moaning at every turn. 

And then his tongue was inside her and he could hear a guttural moan Jon knew he’d never ever grow tired of. Sansa grew slicker and slicker and he could sense her rising higher and higher, cresting a wave until she crashed over the other side. Jon licked and lapped away at her arousal, like a man starved for days finding an oasis in the middle of a desert. They hadn’t even done this a handful of times yet and Jon already knew he was addicted to Sansa and her musky scent. 

There could be elephants stampeding down the corridor outside and Jon wouldn’t have heard any of it. He could only hear Sansa and her whines and moans and groans and pleas. _Yes, yes, yes_. And _Jon, Jon, Jon_. She’d turned his name into a prayer as he worshipped her.

He ran his hands over Sansa’s beautiful, perfectly shaped arse, caressing it while he withdrew his mouth from her mound. Jon tilted his head and could see her looking down at him, smiling. There was a look of such happiness and bliss on her face that Jon wished he could capture it forever. 

Jon wanted to take his time a little, though, and so he kissed his way back up Sansa’s front slowly, dragging it out. He spent more time pressing soft kisses to her stomach and blowing air on her belly button, making Sansa shiver. He kissed the underside of her breasts and allowed himself more time to lick and suck at her nipples. He buried his face in the valley between her breasts until he could feel her grow ticklish. He sucked deep welts into her collarbone and nipped behind her ear. 

When at last he was back where he’d started and looking up into those big blue eyes of hers, Jon could see the want in Sansa’s gaze. Her eyes were navy now, ringed with desire. He ran his fingers lightly up and down her side and then back to her mound, inserting one and then a second, allowing Sansa to ride them. 

“ _Fuuuuuucckkkk_ ”, Sansa murmured, drawing out her curse as Jon moved his fingers deeper inside and stretched her out. “If I’d known before how _goooood_ you were at this…..There, _there_ , right, _right, there_ ……..”

Jon covered Sansa’s mouth with his and swallowed her moans whole. He caressed her tongue, timing it as much as he could with his fingers, desperate to bring Sansa off again and again. He had wanted this for so, so long and now he and Sansa had finally found their way to each other he was _not_ going to screw this up. 

Sansa rode his fingers faster and faster and Jon knew she was close, could feel her walls shudder against his fingers and hear that sweet, deep sigh of pleasure when her orgasm washed over her. Jon pulled his fingers from inside Sansa and licked her juices off them slowly, savouring every last drop of her. 

He was painfully hard now and moved them so his cock was where his fingers had been moments before. “Orgasms for breakfast”, he murmured. Sansa giggled and grabbed his hands, entwining their fingers. 

“This is the best early morning exercise plan I’ve ever seen”, she told him. Jon chuckled lightly and felt her start to move her hips. He moaned, a deep, guttural moan that started somewhere in the depths of his belly. Sansa was just the right type of menace for him. 

“That’s it”, he told her, looking up at Sansa’s breasts moving in tune with her hips, up and down, down and up. He released her fingers and raised a hand to cup one of her breasts, squeezing it, and Sansa caught on, doing the same with the other. And then there was a new moan of contentment to add to the growing stockpile. 

Sansa rode him faster and faster and faster again, and Jon was clinging on for life. “ _More….more…..more….._ ” And then he could feel his balls tighten and he was spilling inside of her. “ _Yes, there, that_.” Jon knew he wasn’t making any sense, but he didn’t care. Sansa found her own pleasure moments later, before collapsing on his chest. 

“Can we do this every morning?” she mumbled into his chest. 

“As many as you’ll permit me to”, Jon told her. He ran his fingers through Sansa’s silky – though now slightly damp – locks. They could both do with a shower but halfway through images of him lathering Sansa in some fruity body wash or other, touching every inch of her skin, he recalled they were not alone in the house. Such a shower would need to wait for their return to White Harbour. 

He kissed her again, though they were interrupted by the sound of his alarm. Jon had set it just before they’d fallen asleep so Sansa could go back to her own room before anyone was up and about. He silenced it immediately and sighed. Telling everyone else was something they’d have to discuss and now was not the moment. Nor had last night been. 

Sansa sighed. “I should go.” Jon hoped he heard the disappointment in her tone. He could hear her moving off his softened cock and watched with fascination as she cleaned herself quickly with some tissues from the box on the bedside table. Sansa pulled on her clothes and leaned down to kiss him quickly. “We’ll talk later. About……everything.”

“We will”, Jon agreed, suddenly realizing that before they could he’d need to find some way to get through breakfast without it being painfully obvious to everyone around them how completely mad he was for Sansa. Perhaps the engagement would distract them.

Sansa opened his door carefully and looked both ways down the corridor before leaving him. Jon got up and quickly opened the window (seven forbid if Catelyn got it into her mind to come in and clean only to find the room smelling of sex as it did now) before getting back into bed, pulling the duvet over himself and resetting the alarm to allow for an extra couple of hours sleep.

-

Jon quietly kept pace alongside Robb as they walked through the local park, listening to him chatter away about whether the football season could be re-started after the league suspension a couple of days before Stannis Baratheon had put the country into lockdown. He doubted that would be the case, but didn’t much care – Robb, on the other hand had some strong opinions about it. Under other circumstances, Jon would have met him in this topic and debated the pros and cons, but today all he felt was a small grudge that he’d been thwarted from spending time alone with Sansa. 

They’d managed to wangle an hour alone earlier on in the morning, using the excuse at breakfast that the WHU History department had e-mailed all their students the day before with sets of potential essay questions to cover the rest of their class grade following the exam cancellation (true), and that Jon had promised to go through a few of them with Sansa (also true) that morning (a big, fat lie). They’d planned to discuss their respective favoured topics, as Jon liked a sounding board as much as Sansa did, but they’d intended to have their discussion on Monday rather than Saturday. 

Jon had thought a quiet walk down by the riverside would be good for them today. It was sunny out and they could take water and snacks and call it a mini-picnic. Robb, it seemed, had other plans. Jon and Sansa had been up in the bedroom he was staying in, her head in Jon’s lap and a piece of paper in hand in case her mother passed by gathering laundry, when Robb had come pounding up the stairs calling Jon’s name. 

Luckily, by the time he’d entered the room, Sansa was sitting up and Jon had covered his hardness with a pillow. That had been half an hour earlier. Now, he was walking through the park, listening to Robb talking up the prospect of a _Wolves_ title challenge, while Sansa walked on ahead with Jeyne. He could hear the odd word or phrase that suggested they were discussing the possibility of a virtual engagement party. 

“……best coach we’ve had in years, Cassel. And Mollen is reaching peak form. I really think we could do it. Our run of fixtures for the last few matches were better than anyone else in the league. What do you think? Jon? Jon?”

He was pulled out of delicious thoughts about how soft Sansa had felt under his touch and the sounds he’d brought forth from her, by a nudge from Robb. 

“Hmmm?”

“ _Wolves_ for the league, right?”

“I guess”, Jon shrugged. Sansa was altogether a more enticing prospect than football. Jon had always been more of a winter sports guy. “Were you wanting to catch up with Jeyne and Sansa?”

Robb had suggested the four of them take a walk together, but thus far it had mainly consisted of Robb chattering away to him while Sansa and Jeyne walked on in front.

“No. I think Jeyne and I can manage to be a few feet apart for an hour. So, you heard from Sam recently?”

“The other day.” Jon was currently very jealous of Sam. While Jon was grateful to the Starks for their hospitality, the thought of an empty apartment in White Harbour for just him and Sansa, as Sam and Gilly had, was tortuous. A pipe dream. Something Jon seriously envied right now. “He’s good. I asked if he had any Netflix recommendations, but he just sort of looked at me with pity and said he and Gilly weren’t watching much TV.”

Robb turned up his face. “I don’t think I wanted to know that.”

“Gilly’s cool. She’ll make sure the apartment is appropriately sanitized before I go back.” If he ever did. If it lasted past the end of summer, Jon guessed that Gilly might even replace him on the lease. “It’s hard talking to people on the phone or video calls. Nobody’s doing anything so they don’t have any news. Well, other than you and Jeyne.”

“Her mother didn’t seem too pleased at that. We called her this morning – well, the family – to tell them about the engagement. I think they figured after she graduated, Jeyne might decide I’d been a phase. Or, I think her mother hoped, anyway.”

“But, she applied to WHU Law with you.” Jon was confused. 

Robb rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, she applied to Casterly U Law at the same time. Not, like, seriously. More as a way of placating them. So when she told them about the engagement, she also told them she wouldn’t be moving back to the Westerlands.”

 _Oh_. 

“They’ll get over it”, Robb shrugged. But Jon wondered at that. Accepting an offer from WHU Law…..they taught _Northern Law_. Jeyne would need to study for a further year if she wanted to practice outside the North. She’d effectively told her family she was moving to the North for _good_. Jon wondered how his own mother would take the news that he was moving that far away. But, then, he was an only child and Jeyne had three siblings. 

“Mr. Westerling’s pretty cool. I think he was just disappointed she wouldn’t be moving back there.”

“And the mother?”

“Oh, her mother _definitely_ hates me.”

Jon wondered if Jeyne and Sansa had overheard their conversation when the two of them hung back and waited for him and Robb to catch up. “I’ve been trying to persuade Sansa that we should watch that Unwin Peake double bill on channel six tonight”, said Jeyne. Jon raised an eyebrow. Horror, even mild horror as Peake’s movies were, had never captured Sansa’s interest. Sansa looked at him and shrugged.

“You know it’ll only encourage Arya to think she can get me to watch the more hardcore stuff.”

“Not if Rickon is watching – you know we’ll be told he’s too young”, Robb reminded her. “And the Peake stuff is tame. Honestly.”

“You can hide yourself in my shoulder at the scary bits”, Jon promised.

“Fine”, Sansa sighed. She fell in step next to Jon, who casually slowed down to allow Robb and Jeyne to move a few steps ahead of them. “Just so you know, I’ll be hiding myself in your shoulder for most of the movie.” _Regardless of how scary it is_ was the unspoken admission.

“That work for you as much as it does for me?”

“Oh, yes.” 

Jon was looking forward to having three or so hours of Sansa cuddling up to him on the sofa. That had become their little evening tradition of late. Someday, when they could go back to White Harbour, he looked forward to them being able to do that _alone_ , rather than surrounded by Sansa’s siblings.

“When do you think we should tell them?” he whispered. He and Sansa had spoken about them and their growing relationship back at the house, but they had yet to decide on when to open up to the rest of her family – who would, inevitably, notice the two of them all over each other all of the time. And would at some point figure out that they weren’t sleeping in their own beds every night.

“Tomorrow. We’ll tell everyone at once. After dinner.”

“Sounds good to me.” He could do a video call with his mother after, in the evening. 

-

Jon could hear distant voices, as if someone were calling his name across a crowded field. He opened his eyes drowsily to see Sansa’s red hair splayed across his chest. Jon could feel her arms wrapped around him and kissed the top of her head lightly. She moved a little and made a soft grunting noise that Jon found curiously adorable. 

And then the voices were back. 

“…..for an early walk. I’ll just check Jon’s room……”

Though he was still half asleep, Jon could pick out Robb’s voice, and Jeyne’s too. “I don’t think you should do that, Robb.”

But he seemed not to be paying attention to her because before Jon could react to what he’d heard Jeyne say, the bedroom door was open and Robb was standing there looking shocked and Jeyne was mouthing apologies from behind him. 

“What the hell?!”

 _That_ woke Sansa up. She turned her head to the doorway and the sight of Robb and then pulled the duvet cover further up. 

“Robb?” Jon could hear the rasp and confusion in her voice and ran his covered hand up and down her spine in an attempt to comfort her. 

“I just – what the hell?! – I don’t even – “

“We were going to tell you today”, said Jon. 

“I did not need to see this.” Robb stared up at the ceiling, avoiding looking at them directly. “And how long has it been going on?”

“Could we not do this right now?” Sansa asked. 

“What’s all this noise?” Jon closed his eyes. _Excellent_. Arya was now standing in the doorway alongside Robb and Jeyne. Sansa was tightening her hold on him and on the duvet and he could feel her embarrassment. “Oh. So they finally did something about it then?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that they’ve been eye-fucking each other since they got here. Give them some space.”

“That sounds like a good idea”, Jeyne agreed. She ushered Robb away and closed the door behind them. 

Jon thought back to the night before. As promised, Sansa spent the bulk of the double feature, _Starpike_ and _The Regency_ , huddled up against his shoulder – and if their hands wandered a little bit then nobody passed comment on it. Latterly, Jon confined himself to doing what he’d done since Sansa had got into the habit of falling asleep on his shoulder or in his lap, and ran his fingers through her hair. Arya caught his eye once or twice, and gave him a pointed look.

He had wondered what her reaction would be to his relationship with her sister. Arya had seemed positive enough when they’d talked before. _Talked_. When she called him out on being in love with her sister, more like. She seemed to be cool enough about it. Cooler about it than Robb, in any case.

“This was _not_ how I wanted everyone to find out”, Jon groaned. Sansa relaxed a little. 

“It could’ve been worse – my parents could’ve come along to see what the noise was about instead of Arya.” Jon shivered. Telling Ned and Catelyn Stark he was dating their daughter was a daunting prospect, particularly given he was currently staying in their house, but the two of them finding Sansa in his bed was not something Jon wanted to contemplate. 

“True. We _were_ going to tell them tonight. I guess twelve hours doesn’t make much of a difference. I just wish that it was under slightly different circumstances.”

“You mean it would’ve been better if they hadn’t walked in and found me in your bed?”

“Yeah, something like that. Makes it a bit harder for Robb to tell himself that you live like a septa. He’ll be weird about it for a while, mostly because of how he found out, and then he’ll be alright.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Maybe it can be. Come on. While I would’ve really, really, _really_ liked to start the day the same as yesterday, I guess we should probably go downstairs and get some breakfast.”

“And get this over and done with.”

“ _Yes_.”

Jon threw off the duvet and held in a whine at the sight of a naked Sansa. He wished he could lock the bedroom door and spend the day in bed with her, learning each and every moan and sweet spot he had yet to discover. 

“No, don’t”, he said when Sansa went to put her pyjamas back on. He pulled out a pair of sweats and a faded band t-shirt for _Sigorn and the Thenns_. “Here, put these on.” Sansa smiled and took the clothes from him, ignoring the fact that aside from the pyjamas she’d worn to walk down the corridor the night before, there was a wardrobe full of clothes just a couple of rooms away. 

It only took a few minutes for them to dress and walk down to the kitchen, where it seemed all the Starks were eating. Jon’s eye caught the clock next to the back door and saw it was a little after nine thirty. Clearly in his rush to take Sansa’s clothes off the night before he had forgotten to set the alarm on his phone. 

“Morning”, said Sansa. She slipped into her usual chair and Jon found it natural to slip into the one next to her that had become his usual spot. He took her hand under the table and squeezed it.

“Scrambled eggs on toast alright for both of you?” Catelyn asked him. She stood over the stove and was clearly responsible for the smells that were causing Jon’s belly to rumble. “Ned, get Jon and Sansa some orange juice. They must be tired after watching those horror movies last night, like everyone else. I was always suspicious when you were this quiet.”

“I see you’ve finally seen the light about them”, Ned said to Sansa, pointing at the t-shirt she wore when he brought over their juice. 

“Thanks”, Jon muttered as he accepted the glass from Ned.

“It’s Jon’s t-shirt”, Sansa told her father. “He lent it to me.” Jon chanced a look up at Ned and saw only confusion. Jon then caught Sansa’s eye and smiled at her. He squeezed her hand again. 

“Are we going to talk about it, then?” Robb huffed. “How long have you two been carrying on like that? If I’d known I would never have walked in on the two of you.” Jon was waiting for Robb to bring up their argument about the amount of time he and Sansa were spending together, but he hadn’t as yet.

“This isn’t about _you_ , Robb”, Sansa retorted. “And all you walked in on was us _sleeping_.”

“The answer to your question, though, is a little under thirty-six hours”, Jon informed him. 

“You really held out”, Arya interjected in between slices of toast. She turned to Robb. “How blind are you that you haven’t seen the two of them making eyes at each other?! Jon stares at Sansa constantly, they spend almost as much time together as you and Jeyne, and I am not convinced Sansa was asleep all that time she spent with her head on Jon’s lap.”

Though grateful for Arya’s support, Jon wished she wasn’t quite so blunt sometimes. He saw Robb look pointedly at Jeyne, clearly looking for some support. She shrugged. “I thought it was a bit obvious that they liked each other. I did tell you not to walk in without knocking.”

“What am I missing here?” Rickon asked. 

“What you’ve missed, Rickon, is – “

“Sansa and I are together now”, Jon interrupted Robb. He turned and looked at her, smiling, and saw her beaming back. 

“I guess you’re cool enough”, Rickon shrugged. 

“You should have told me before I walked in on you”, Robb insisted again. 

“All Jon and I were doing when you walked in the room was sleeping, Robb”, Sansa repeated. “A human function that should take up going on a third of your day. And you should learn to knock.”

“I just did _not_ need to see that”, Robb grumbled. He was still mostly avoiding eye contact with Jon and Sansa, and Jon wondered if he was even more embarrassed about it than Sansa had been. Probably.

“Here’s your scrambled eggs.” Catelyn laid large, filled plates on the table. “Robb, your sister is old enough to make her own decisions. And if you want people to respect your privacy and knock before entering your bedroom, you should allow them the same right in return. Eat up, and there’s more there if anyone wants it.”

“Jon, Robb, Gendry, I was hoping you could all help me cut back some of the bushes in the garden for summer”, said Ned. He sat down at the head of the table with a black coffee. 

Jon had hoped to spend the day with Sansa, but those plans seemed to have been curtailed. He supposed one Sunday didn’t matter. They’d be stuck like this for a while, after all. So many, many days he and Sansa could spend together. So many, many _nights_ they could spend together.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've started this new multi chapter. I'm writing as I go, but I don't anticipate it being a long one (ten chapters max).......I say optimistically.......


End file.
